


Nothing's Gonna Harm You

by RanebowStitches



Category: Sweeney Todd (2007)
Genre: M/M, Mute!Toby, Older!Toby, Slash, but not for all of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RanebowStitches/pseuds/RanebowStitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs. Lovett has to leave for a week to care for a sick uncle, thus leaving Toby and Sweeney alone. What could possibly happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I just can't find any Sweeney/Toby, so I've decided to take it into my own hands and write some. Hope you enjoy~

Toby's screams echoed around the dark bake house as soon as the Beadle had slid down the chute and the crack of his skull was heard on the stone floor. The boy had tried to escape through the door, but alas, it was locked tight. Still screaming, Toby curled himself in the corner furthest away from the death piled in the room. It seemed to be everywhere, and it was overwhelming him. Even when footsteps could be heard climbing down the cellar stairs, Toby still screamed. The huge door flew open, and in rushed Mrs. Lovett and the demon barber himself. Mrs. Lovett quickly ran over to the small boy and clutched him to her breast.

“Shh, shh, Toby. There, there, love. It's ok. Quiet now. Shh,” She held the shaking boy tight as he clutched to her dress for dear life. His screams softened a tad bit, turning themselves into sobs. Mrs. Lovett rubbed his back and kept whispering “Shh,” into his ear. Behind her, Sweeney scoffed.

“Give me the boy,” He stated, taking a step closer. This caused the boy to scream again before burying his head against Mrs. Lovett's chest. She held him tight and gave a stern look to Sweeney.

“No,” She told him. “I've changed my mind. You can't kill him,”

“He knows too much. I have to,”

“He won't tell a soul, will you, Toby? Look at me and promise you won't utter a single word to anyone,” Mrs. Lovett lifted Toby's chin up and looked him in the eye. He casted a quick glance over at Sweeney through his tear filled eyes before looking back. “You won't say anything, will yah?” Toby shook his head no and crossed his heart with his finger before letting a new wave of tears fall. Sweeney scoffed again.

“Fine, the boy lives, but if he says anything to anyone,” He made a distinct motion across his neck with this finger that got his point across clearly before stomping back up the stairs.

“Come on, Toby. Let's get you to bed,” Mrs. Lovett helped him up, and practically carried him to bed.

..x..x..x..x..x..

Up in the barber shop, said barber was currently pacing, waiting eagerly for the judge to arrive. He stopped when he heard a woman's voice outside the door. As she opened it, she stopped mid-song and stared at Sweeney, who quickly strode over to her.

“Who are you?” He asked the strange beggar woman. She twiddled her fingers, gazing at them as if they knew the answer, before spouting some madness about the devil's wife. Sweeney did not have time for this, and he shooed the woman out the door. Not a minute later, the judge burst into the room. Things progressed, as they do, and Sweeney proceeded to sing with, yell at, stab, and ultimately kill the judge in little to no time at all. He was finally laying his razor to peace when someone peaked out of the trunk in the back of the room. _Who would be stupid enough.._ He thought as he walked over to the trunk. “Come in for a shave, have ye lad?” he said, lifting the lid and peering at the boy inside. He pulled him out by his collar and threw him into the still bloody chair.

“No, I-,” The boy tried to protest. “Listen, you don't-,”

“A strapping lad like yourself always has time for a shave,” Sweeney grinned before raising his razor into the air. The boy squeaked and quickly pulled his hat off, allowing his, her, long yellow hair to flow down. Sweeney froze.

Time ticked by slowly as the two stared at each other, the girl out of fright, and Sweeney out of surprise.    
_This couldn't be... but she looks so much like... It couldn't be._   
“Who are you?” he asked, slowly lowering his razor arm. The girl visibly relaxed at this and replied, “My name is Johanna,” Sweeney's breath stopped in his throat and he could feel tears glazing his eyes. He reached out a hand, that was still covered in blood, and touched her soft cheek. She flinched and stared at him wide eyed.

“Johanna,” He stated in an almost whisper. “I'm your father,”

“Wh-what?” Johanna gasped. That could not be true! Could it? “N-No, that can't be. How- Where- why?” Sweeney held up a hand to silence her babbling.

“I was sentenced to prison for life on a false charge when you were just a baby. I was there 15 years before I escaped and found my way back to London, looking for you,” He explained. Johanna still looked skeptical. Considering he was still covered head - to – toe in blood, I don't blame her. “Look here!” He quickly moved around the chair and grabbed the double photo-frame off his desk. He handed it to Johanna. “This here is you,” he pointed to the baby. “And this is your mother, Lucy,” Johanna gazed at the pictures, trying, and failing, to recognize anything. She    
_was_   
quite small at the time.

“Where is my mother?” She asked after studying the photos. Sweeney looked away out the huge skylight windows.

“After I was sent away, she poisoned herself, and then that bloody judge took you away,” They both shivered. “But all that is in the past. I've found you finally. We're together again!” Johanna chewed on her bottom lip.

“But what about the judge?” She asked. Sweeney motioned to himself. All the blood on him was slowly drying.

“This is the last you'll ever see of that nasty old judge,” Johanna started for a second before smiling and standing to give her father a hug.

“Thank you,” She said. Sweeney was shocked at first, but then he wrapped his arms around his daughter and hugged back. That's when Anthony walked in.

..x..x..x..x..x..

“Everything is ok now, Toby. Just go to sleep,” Mrs. Lovett ran her fingers through the boy's short, dark hair and he lay in bed, tears still rolling down his face silently. He trembled and pulled the blankets closer to his body. He felt his eyelids droop as Mrs. Lovett started softly singing. “Nothing's gonna harm you. Not while I'm around.”


	2. The Letter

Four years have passed since that fateful day, and with the years came many changes. For Johanna and Anthony it meant getting married. Anthony had almost had a heart attack when he walked in to see Johanna in the arms of the blood covered barber, but after they explained the parental status and told him exactly who's blood it was, he stopped threatening Sweeney with one of his own razors. It took some time for Johanna to get used to having a real loving father back in her life, and Mrs. Lovett filled in for her mother, but she was happy. Anthony was glad that they didn't have to leave anymore. He liked London. So, the couple got married a few months later, and they now live and work in the apothecary around the corner, and are expecting a baby. Sweeney is very gleeful at this, but emotions still aren't his thing. He wasn't even fazed when news came around that the old beggar woman had been hit by a passing cart and died, though Mrs. Lovett was a little more giddy that week.

For the trio in the bakery, changes were a bit more drastic. For starters, Mrs. Lovett could only convince Toby to leave his room after a week without eating. When he finally came out, he refused to be in any room with Sweeney. Even if Mrs. Lovett was there too, as soon as Sweeney stepped foot into the room, Toby was out of there. He'd also became a strict vegetarian. Mrs. Lovett had explained to him that the only reason they were killing people was to earn money to stay alive so that Sweeney could kill the judge. Now that the judge was gone, and they had plenty of money, Mrs. Lovett bought real meat, and Sweeney actually got to do his job right. Though, there were always those slow weeks, and those times when the price on meat went up, and those times when the razor just slipped... But just to be sure, Toby stopped eating meat, even if they went out to a restaurant.

He also stopped talking. Ever since that day that he found out the horrible secret, not one word has been uttered through his lips. Mrs. Lovett thinks it's just from the traumatic shock of the event, that he was scared speechless. Sweeney thinks it is a mixture of the trauma and the fact that they kept telling Toby not to say anything. He figures his brain mixed these things, and shut him up, but for what ever the reason, Toby doesn't seem to mind it, so no one presses him about it.

So, four years later, Toby is an 18 year old lad. He grew to be just a bit taller then Mrs. Lovett, and his hair is the same short, dark, shaggy mess it has been (he refused to have his haircut by anyone except Mrs. Lovett). Everyone else just kinda got a little bit older. You know as soon as you hit a certain age, you don't really change. Anyway, our story started one fine gray morning at the dirty pie shop on Fleet Street.

Toby sighed as he rolled out the dough. It was early and he didn't feel like cooking right now, but Mrs. Lovett had told him that they needed a head start on the days production if they were to feed the party that was coming that night. So, of course Toby complied, and now he was stuck rolling dough as thin as he could and creating the well known shapes of the pies. He looked over as Mrs. Lovett walked into the room. She smiled at him and came over to examine the dough.

“Oh, Toby! This is lovely. You're really getting a knack for making pies,” She praised as she made a pie of her own using the dough Toby rolled out. Toby smiled. He loved when Mrs. Lovett praised him. He'd do anything to make her happy so, he always did the best he could. He viewed her like a mother. She had saved him from the work house after all.

Mrs. Lovett loaded a try with some food and tea and began heading out the side door. “I'm just going to pop this up to Mr. T, alright? Be back in a bit,” Toby nodded and watched her leave. He continued rolling out his dough and forming pie shells so Mrs. Lovett could fill them. He refused to touch the meat himself. No matter what anyone said, he refused. He could barely look at raw meat anymore without feeling queasy.

Toby started lining up the crusts that he had made onto a cooking tray, his arms tired from rolling. Once the tray was full he popped it in the oven for a couple minutes, just to get the dough a little brown, before taking it back out and leaving it on Mrs. Lovett's side of the counter for her to fill and take to the bake house. He was making more crusts when Mrs. Lovett came back in, tray-less. She smiled at him and took her spot next to him, filling the crusts previously mentioned. She was covering the pies with the top layer of dough when a knock was heard at the front door. “Oh, I wonder who that could be,” She wiped her floury hands on her bodice before shuffling over and opening the door. A small boy wearing a newsboy cap stood outside the door. He titled the brim of his hat to Mrs. Lovett before speaking.

“Are you Mrs. Lovett, mam?” He asked. She nodded. “I've got an important message for you. The sender requested I get it to you as soon as I could,” He pulled a letter from a small bag that was around his shoulder and handed it to Mrs. Lovett. He tilted his hat again. “Good day, mam,” And with that he was racing down the street. Mrs. Lovett closed the door and looked the letter over.

“It says it's from my Uncle Elliot. I wonder what he could want,” Toby watched as Mrs. Lovett took the letter from the envelope, only slightly interested in what the letter could hold. Her Uncle had visited them over the years when he heard about the success the shop was having. He and his niece were very close. She read it over gasping and “oh my”ing at certain parts. When she was done, her face looked quite grim. Toby gave her a questioning look as he lined up more pie crusts onto a tray. “It appears that my Uncle has come down with a strange sickness, and the doctors don't know if he will make it or not,” Tears welled in her eyes, but she tried to blink them away. “He says that I need to come and visit him right away so that I'm there when they read the will. If it comes to that anyway,” She sniffled and ran to Toby. He wrapped her in a hug and rubbed her back. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes before Mrs. Lovett pulled away and sniffed. “Well, no use crying about something that may not happen, right? There's hope that he'll pull through, right?” Toby nodded and gave her a smile. She smiled back and moved towards the side door. “I have to go tell the news to Mr. T,” Toby just nodded and went back to making the pies. He'd enjoy a break from cooking, even if it was to go see some sick man. After all, Mrs. Lovett would bring Toby with her. Of course she would.

A few minutes later there was a bustling coming down the outside stairs, and Toby could hear an argument in the midst. The side door flew open and Toby looked up.

“You can not leave him here! You have to take him!”

“The letter says only for me to come and no guests!”

“Then leave him somewhere else! He's not staying here with me!”

“There's nowhere else to send him! Oh, Toby dear! Please, don't leave,” Toby froze in the archway that led to the living room. As soon as Sweeney had entered the room, he had begun moving over to it. He bristled when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but relaxed when he realized it was just Mrs. Lovett. “I need to talk to you and Mr. T at the same time, alright?” He nodded, turning back and resuming his pie crust making duties, trying not to look at Sweeney who was giving him a nasty look. Mrs. Lovett clapped her hands. “Alright, now, we are all aware of my Uncle's predicament. I will arrange for a cab to pick me up tomorrow morning. I will be gone for a week tops. While I'm away I want the shop closed, alright?” Toby mindlessly nodded, wondering why she was telling him this stuff, as he filled up a tray with crusts. “When I return, I expect this place to be exactly how I left it. Now, boys,” She looked pointedly at Sweeney. “I want you two to either learn to get along for a week, or just plain ignore each other alright?” Sweeney grumbled something, and Toby looked up at Mrs. Lovett with a look that said, “Wait, aren't I coming with you?” Mrs. Lovett, who was a master at reading Toby's looks, shook her head and said, “I'm sorry, Toby. The letter says no guests. You'll be spending the week with Mr. Todd,” Toby gasped and bolted from the room, dropping a whole tray of pie crusts on the floor. Sweeney grumbled again.

“Looks like he's as much excited about this as I am,” He spat out and left the room in a huff, stomping back up to his shop. Mrs. Lovett sighed. She just knew that when she returned, things where not going to be how she left them.


	3. Lunch

Toby didn’t leave his room for the entire day, leaving Mrs. Lovett to the job of finishing all the pies. He knew it was selfish of him, and that he should go help, and he wanted to go help, but he just couldn’t leave his room. He just knew that _HE_ would be there. Waiting for him. Silently waiting. So, he sat, curled up on his bed, and tried to forget the memories of that horrible night that happened all those years ago.

As night rolled around, and costumers began filing in, Mrs. Lovett knocked on Toby’s door and demanded that he come out and help her serve all the pies that she had to make all by herself. Only after she promised that Mr. Todd was up in his shop, and that he would stay there, did Toby out reluctantly. She quickly scolded him for holing himself up all day, and told him that after the shop was closed, he was to do all the dishes and wipe down the tables. Toby nodded, staring down at his shoes, and accepted his punishment willingly. He knew he had to make it up to Mrs. Lovett, even if she was leaving him for a week. In the care of a murderer. After all, she did save him from the workhouse.

..x..x..x..x..x..

It had been a terribly long night. The party that was scheduled to come definitely came, and they brought along more people than was expected. Toby had spent the entire time running around, through the isles of the tables, dodging people’s feet, refilling their drinks, serving pies, taking plates, bringing forks, and now, after everyone had left, he was still on his feet.

He sighed as he ran a wet rag across the table, throwing any scraps he found into the street for the mutts and rats to eat. His tired limbs were all ready to give out on him, and he swayed on the spot as he wiped the table. The slow circular movements were putting him to sleep. As he reached the end of the table, he dropped the rag into the bucket of water he'd been using and collapsed in the nearest seat. His forehead hit the table with a soft thud and he sighed again.

A cold wind blew down the dark and lonely Fleet Street. The only lights coming from the very few street lamps that people had bothered to light, and the dingy pie shop. Here and there a late night cab was driving, the horses hooves clip-clopping on the brick road. Toby lifted his head as one of these passed by. It was being driven by an amazing pitch black horse that all but blended into the night. If it wasn't for the one white stripe that ran through it's mane, Toby would have believed that the cab was being driven by a ghost horse. Yet, something about the horse irked him, even long after it was gone. It seemed to remind him of someone. Toby shivered as another gust of wind passed over him, and his thoughts switched back to what he was doing before. He took a look around at all the tables he'd already cleaned and deemed them worthy of being eaten upon. Toby stood, his aching legs yelling at him, and bent to reach for the bucket of water that lay on the ground. Before his hand touched it though, he jumped back. A big black rat skittered out from behind the bucket and hissed at Toby, but it wasn't the rat that had Toby scared to death, it was what the rat was grasping in its small paws. An ear. A human ear.

Toby felt his world spinning as memories he tried so hard to repress shot up to the front of his mind. He could remember that horrid day like it happened minutes ago. The smell of the fire burning in the corner, the smell of pies on the racks, the smell of death from the sewers and the grinder...It all burned his nose. He could practically hear the lost screams of all the people that filled the evil machine. The sound of the Beadle's skull cracking and the sight of his brains gushing from said skull was forever etched in his mind. He remembered curling in the corner of the room, trying to get away from it all. Away from all the death in the room, as if it would consume him from the inside out. The souls of all those lost lives lived in the shadows in the bakehouse. The shadows had clawed at him, trying to rip him up, rip him to shreds, and bake him. His screams made his throat sore, and he could practically _taste_ the death in the room, the horrid taste staining his tongue. How many of those pies had he'd eaten? How many...people?

Toby was wrenched back to the present when his stomach suddenly traveled upwards. He quickly emptied it into the bucket of water that lay at his feet, the rat long since gone. He coughed, dry heaving once, before wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He looked away from the bucket, now filled with a mixture of water and vomit, and sat down again. He groaned into his hands, rubbing his face, then looked out over the dark street. He was seriously thinking about sneaking onto the cab with Mrs. Lovett tomorrow. Maybe he'd go stay with Johanna and Anthony. Of course, Sweeney would probably look for him there first. Toby sighed and looked at his feet, before looking all around. He had this strange feeling someone was watching him. No one down the street. No one in the pie shop. He casted a glance up at the barber shop, and lo and behold, the barber himself was standing there, leaning on the railing, watching him. Toby's breath caught in his throat, and he quickly looked away. He only looked back a second later when he heard the door slam shut. _What was that about? How long was he there?_ Toby thought before quickly picking up the soiled bucket that sat at his feet. He ran to the nearest sewer, dumping it down before running back to the shop and cleaning it. He had to wash all the dirty dishes too. Toby groaned, but got to work. By time he went to bed, Toby couldn't think of anything except sleep. He just wanted this whole day to be over.

..x..x..x..x..x..

Morning arrived with a bright sun, quite unusual for the gloomy town, but not unheard of. Most people were taking advantage of this wonderful day and were out shopping, or sailing, or just reading a nice book outside. Some people were walking through parks while their kids flew kites along side them. Some people were wondering why the best pie shop in London had a “closed for the week” sign on it. Some people were taking cabs to visit their sick uncles, while some people were still asleep in their warm beds, unaware of the fabulous day outside.

Toby turned over to his other side and blinked his eyes open slowly, only to be blinded by the sun shining through his window. He groaned and turned back over, pulling his blanket over his head. He didn't know what time it was, but he didn't right care. All he knew was that Mrs. Lovett let him sleep in, and it felt gr- Mrs. Lovett. The aforementioned blanket was thrown from the aforementioned boy as he jumped from his bed and ran out of his room looking for the aforementioned lady. Of course, she was nowhere, and as Toby stood in the middle of the living room, all of yesterday flew back into his head. Mrs. Lovett was gone for a week, and he was left here with Sweeney Todd.

Toby tried to get his breathing under control as he walked into the main shop room/kitchen, hungry for...breakfast? lunch? What time was it? He glanced at the clock on the wall. Noon. He'd never got to sleep that late before! Maybe this week without work wouldn't be all that bad. He clutched his rumbling stomach, and was making his way to the pantry, when he spotted the note on the counter that he was making pies on yesterday. He picked it up and read:

 _“Dear Toby,_

 _I'm sorry for not saying goodbye in person, but I had to take a very early cab in order to get to my uncle's on time. As you know, he lives quite far. Anyway, I've left you some of your favorite potato and vegetable pies in the pantry for you along with some money in case you want to go out to eat. I expect the place to be standing when I get back now. Good luck!_

 _Love,_

 _Mrs. Lovett_

 _P.S. If you could, please take a tray of food up to Mr. T. He sometimes forgets to come down and eat.”_

There was a heart drawn at the very end of the letter.  _ Good luck!  _ Toby laughed in his head, letting out only an audible snort. He needed all the luck he could get. His stomach growled again, calling for food. He decided to settle it down and continued on his way to the pantry. Inside lay the promised pies, which would stay good for about 2 days, some money, and the rest of the ingredients that were always there. Flour, sugar, etc. Toby took out a pie, grabbed a plate, poured himself a glass of water with a small tot of gin on the side (no one would ever know), and sat down at the table in the corner of the room. As he ate his pie, he looked out the window and watched people walking down the street and going into buildings and getting into cabs. Just people living their lives, worried about things like being late for work and what they would have for dinner that night. Not one was worried about being killed in their sleep by the murderer that lived upstairs. Not one.

As Toby finished his lunch, he cleaned up his dishes, then stood, looking around the room. He never had nothing to do. He was always making pies, serving pies, helping Mrs. Lovett clean the place, but never really doing nothing. He hummed and shoved his hands into his pockets. A crinkle sound met his ears, and he pulled Mrs. Lovett's note out of his pocket and reread it. Those last lines, “If you could, please take a tray of food up to Mr. T. He sometimes forgets to come down and eat,” stood out to him more than the others. What if Sweeney never came down to eat? Would he stay up there and brood himself to death? Toby smirked. He liked this idea. Rereading the letter again, he sighed. If Mrs. Lovett came home to a dead Mr. Todd she would not be happy. Toby balled the note up and threw it in the trash, knitting his brows together in thought. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, cursed himself in his head, and began piling food onto a tray. By food I mean one of Toby's own vegetarian pies and a pot of tea with an empty cup. Toby found it worthy, especially since he was giving away one of his own pies, and nodded his head in a job well done manner. Picking up the tray he willed his legs to move out the side door and to the stairs.

Getting up the stairs was another problem.  _ What am I doing?!  _ Toby screamed in his head.  _ Why am I feeding a killer?! He's probably waiting right behind the door with a razor poised, ready to kill me.  _ The boy groaned.  _ Well, I'm already out here and this tray is all made. Might as well bring it up to him. If anything goes wrong, maybe I can defend myself with the teapot.  _ Toby took a deep breath, puffing his chest up, and began his assent up the stairs, one at a time. In this manner, it took about 10 minutes for him to actually reach the top of the steps, let alone walk to the door. There he stood, staring at the wooden grain, trying to get his erratic breathing under control. All he had to do was open the door, put the tray down, and run like hell. It was that easy. He could do it. Switching the tray to one hand, Toby took a deep breath and reached out the other hand, turning the cold knob and sliding open the door.

..x..x..x..x..x..

Sweeney was staring out of his giant skylight, like he does, looking at all the petty people living their pathetic lives. He watched them smile and wave at others, go into stores, gather at the corner and gossip. None of them had anything else better to do. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sweeney wanted to be able to be like that. To be able to just walk down the street because you felt like it, but here he was, a different man after so many years in prison. A murderer. A babysitter. He scowled and glanced at the letter that he held in his hand. Mrs. Lovett had given it to him right before she left. It read:

 _“Dear Mr. T,_

 _When I come back I expect the place to be standing. I think you can handle a week without me. Please try not to scare Toby. It may even be better if you just ignore him. I'm confident that he can take care of himself. As you know, the pie shop is closed, but I don't care if you keep yours open or not. A week vacation may do you good. Good luck._

 _Love,_

 _Nellie_

 _P.S. If by some chance something happens, let's hope nothing does, singing usually calms him down. Just any simple soft song.”_

Sweeney scoffed and balled the letter up, chucking it into the corner of the room. Like he'd ever do anything as stupid as sing to that boy. If it was up to him, that boy would have been dead four years ago. Now, he's just another mouth to feed. Oh yes, Sweeney would ignore the boy alright. All he had to do was stay up here. Even if he did wander downstairs for something to eat, the boy would scurry out of the room like a scared rat. The boy practically ignored him already, so he didn't even have to try. It's not like he was going to come knocking on his door with a tray of food.

A small creak echoed around the room as the door slowly opened a crack. Toby slid himself slowly inside just as Sweeney turned on his heel. The two locked eyes, one in a dark glare, the other full of fear. Toby swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to keep his hands from shaking, the teacup making an awful rattle noise when they did. Sweeney raised a dark eyebrow at the petrified boy.

“What is it you want, boy?” He asked, before his gaze flicked down to the tray in Toby's hands. Toby held said tray out towards Sweeney, but he didn't move from his spot near the door. Sweeney studied him, wondering why he was even bringing him food if he was so afraid to be anywhere near him. Sweeney shrugged it off, not really caring, and turned back to his window. “Set it down on that trunk over there,” He said, slightly motioning with his hand. He heard the boy's speedy footsteps, as he did what he said, and then the door quickly closing. Steps ran down the stairs outside and then the pie shop door closed too. Sweeney hummed before turning around. He was hungry for some lunch.


	4. Crash

Later that day, Toby found himself laying outside on one of the dining tables starring up at the clouds. True, it had started out as a relatively sunny day, but it didn't last very long. It never did. Toby sighed, for about the fifth time, as he found yet another cloud that looked like a rabbit. He was so bored with no work to do. He rolled over to his side and watched people walk up and down the street. The few that looked over to him either waved to him, or just ignored him. Toby couldn't believe how many different people there actually were on one street. A priest, a poet, a lawyer, a marine; all living different lives and yet all on one street. _All in one pie._ Toby groaned and shook his head. Little thoughts like that had been sneaking up on him ever since he had bolted from Sweeney's shop, and he couldn't get them to stop. Every time a thought hit him, he felt a lurch in his stomach.

Toby sat up and slid off the table, stretching his arms over his head. He was going to find something to do if it killed him. He searched around under the tables, and under the stairs, finding nothing. He went in the pie shop and searched around there. He found an old chess board in the cabinet that held the gin glasses, but he didn't feel like playing against himself at the moment. He'd save that when he was _really_ desperate for something to do. He looked around the living room, finding a couple books. He opened one up, making out a few words in the first sentence before giving up and putting it back where he found it. He had never been formally educated, and Mrs. Lovett, bless her heart, had tried to teach him to read, but she was not much better than he. It had taken him a couple minutes to read the note that she left him, but luckily she had used small words. He wandered into his room and looked around. It was quiet drab, what with only a bed and a dresser. Toby searched all through the drawers, finding a broken yo-yo, with origins unknown, and a sock with no match. Sighing again, he turned towards his closet. Pulling open the doors, be felt around on the high shelf, only successful in finding dust bunnies. He sneezed as a dust cloud hit him smack dab in the face. He sniffed and started searching the floor, moving all his shoes that Mrs. Lovett had bought for him, until his fingers touched something round and rubber in the far corner. He pulled it out and discovered it to be a fairly sized ball! Toby grinned and darted back outside.

Moving the tables to one side of the yard, Toby made a pretty good space to kick the ball around in. At first he simply just dribbling it around in circles and bouncing it on his knees, but soon he started role-playing in his head. _Tobias is on the outside of the court. He's running, he's running, he's almost to the goal!_ He circled around the fence and started heading towards the pie shop, the ball at the tip of his toes. _Oh no! The other team has stolen the ball from right under his feet!_ Toby kicked the ball into opposite direction he was going and chased after it. He mentally pictured other boys about his age running next to him and all cheering his name. Catching up to the ball, he snagged it and began heading back the way he came. _He's got the ball! There he goes! Is he going to make it? I think he's going to make it! He shoots! HE SCO- CRASH!_ Toby froze on the spot. _Oooohhh, crap._

 __Toby's feet started moving before his brain told them too, and he ended up stumbling into the pie shop rather ungraciously. He stepped around all the broken glass and found his ball rolling lazily under the table. He pulled at his hair and a long stream of curse words flew through his mind. The window on the door connecting the shop to the outside dining area was now in pieces on the ground. Only a few shards of glass managed to hold onto to their wooden frame. Toby put a hand to his hyperventilating chest and tried to steady his breathing, but the only thing going through his head was how dead he was. If not because of Mrs. Lovett yelling at him, but Sweeney was sure to find out before her. He probably heard the whole thing! Quickly, Toby began gathering the larger of the pieces of glass and throwing them into the rubbish bin. He figured he'd clean it up now, and if anyone asked, he'd say a bird flew through the window. Yeah. That'll work. He was just about to throw another piece away when heavy footsteps started coming the stairs. Toby froze again, though he was yelling at his legs to run, he couldn't move.

Of course, even before the door opened Toby could see that it was, in fact, Sweeney coming down the steps, and not by some miracle, someone else. No, of course not. Toby saw a quick flash of surprise fly over Sweeney's face before it was replaced with a scowl. The barber opened the door, dislodging the pieces of glass that had held on so long, and set his sights on Toby in the form of an intense glare. Toby shook in his spot and is hand tightened around the piece of glass that he still held.

“What the bloody hell happened here?” Sweeney demanded to know in a voice that could kill puppies yet that was not louder than his usual voice. Toby just shook harder and tried to get his feet to move. Sweeney stomped over to him, not caring about the glass he was stepping on, and grabbed his collar, pulling him closer. True, Toby had grown in the past years, but Mr. Todd still had about an inch advantage, and that was all it took to be that much more intimidating. Toby's eyes were as wide as saucers and only grew wider as he felt cold metal against his neck. “Open your mouth and tell me what happened, right now, or so help me, I'll-,” Sweeney growled and pushed his razor harder into Toby's neck. To tell the truth, it was the blunt side of the razor, so even if he wanted to cut his throat, he couldn't, but Toby didn't know that. Toby thought his life was going to end right there, and all because he had broken a window and couldn't speak up about it. He tried to say something, but no sound escaped his mouth. Tears started to well up in his eyes, and he tried to blink them away, but one still fell. Sweeney's expression immediately softened, but not by much. He mumbled under his breath and put his razor away. Toby sniffed and quickly raised his hand to swipe at his eyes. That's when he realized that he was still gripping the glass shard. Hard. He opened his hand, letting the glass fall to the ground, and stared at his bloody hand. He froze again.

Sweeney had watched this all play out, and he let go of the boys collar. Toby didn't seem to notice as his eyes were focused on the blood, and were swimming with emotions Sweeney couldn't name. The barber sighed and roughly grabbed Toby's wrist and dragged him over to the sink where a basin of water sat. He placed the boy's hand into the water, which turned a deep red, and whipped his handkerchief off of his belt loop. Pulling Toby's hand out of the water, he quickly wrapped the fabric around the cut and tied it in a tight knot before shoving Toby's hand back at him. Toby blinked at him before examining his hand, running his fingers over the quickly made bandage. He wanted to thank the barber, but again, no sound could be made from his vocal cords. He felt his stomach lurch, but not in a bad way. He looked down at his feet.

Sweeney let out a low scoff before moving over to the floor with all the glass. Most had been picked up by Toby already, so Sweeney grabbed a nearby broom and swept up the tinier pieces. He casted a glance to Toby, who had sort of shuffled over to watch, and hit the broom against the floor causing Toby to look up at him, his eyes wide. Sweeney relaxed and scooped up the pile of glass, putting it in the rubbish bin. He turned back to Toby, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell me how this happened. Now,” he said. Toby quickly scrambled under the table and retrieved his ball and held it out to Sweeney who raised an eyebrow at it. Toby quickly chucked it out the open window as Sweeney watched. “Ah, I see,” The barber made his way to the broken window and examined it. “Well, it looks like a clean break. All we need to do is get a new pane of glass and slip it right in,” He turned back to leer at Toby who shrunk back some. “You're very lucky it did not splinter the wood, or you'd be paying for a new door,” Toby looked down in shame. Surely Sweeney knew he hadn't meant to break the window. He sighed.

“As for right now,” The barber continued. “We're going to need to cover this with something,” Toby perked up and made his way to the front door of the shop, opening the door and stooping down to pick up the newspaper that had been left there. He snatched some bent nails off the cabinet in the corner and the rolling pin off the counter. He held it all out to Sweeney who had been watching with interest. Plucking the newspaper from the boys hands, Sweeney unrolled it and held it up against the window. It fit perfectly. “Alright, hold this here,” He motioned towards the paper with a tilt of his head. Toby followed orders, handing Sweeney the other items before stretching up to hold the top of the paper against the wood. He could feel the barber behind him as a nail was roughly driven into the wood with the rolling pin (in which Sweeney felt absolutely ridiculous using). His breath hitched in his throat when Sweeney brushed against him, and he felt the strange flopping in his stomach again. As soon as both top nails were in, Toby backed out as quick as he could, trying to breath calmly. Sweeney gave him a look, but didn't press as he finished nailing the corners of the paper. He stood back and looked at his handy work when he was done, holding the rolling pin over his shoulder. He nodded and turned to Toby, who was slowly trying to inch from the room. Sweeney froze the boy with a sharp look. “Tomorrow,” he stated. “We get new glass, and yes, I mean we. Apparently, you can't be left alone for a few days without breaking something, let alone a few hours. We will be picking up some other stuff also, so be ready to go by nine,” Toby nodded solemnly and watched as Sweeney dropped the rolling pin on the table and exited the room, careful not to slam the newly repaired door. Toby only let out the breath he had been holding when he heard the shop door above him close. He fell to the floor, his shaking knees unable to keep him up. He could barely survive these few moments alone with the demon, but to go out and spend the day _shopping_ with him?! Toby didn't know how he was going to survive. He ran his fingers over the slightly blood soaked cloth that was wrapped around his hand, and his stomach fluttered. He sighed. He really didn't know how he was going to live through this.


	5. Shopping

Toby didn't get much sleep that night. His dreams were plagued with bits of old memories, you know, those horrible ones, and he kept waking up in a cold sweat every half hour or so. It didn't help that he was stressing out over the trip he'd be taking with the demon barber either. Once he finally got himself settled into a comfortable position with the early morning sun warming him from just outside his window, he made the mistake of looking over at the clock on the wall. It was a hour till nine, the time that Toby wished never existed. He sighed. He could either try to go back to sleep for an hour, or just screw it and get up now. His body made the decision for him when his eyes fell shut again, and he drifted off to sleep.

 _“Come in for a shave, lad? A handsome boy like yourself could always use a shave. Have to look good for the young lasses... or lads.”_

 __Toby gasped as he sat straight up in his bed. He ran a trembling hand through his short hair, and brought his knees to his chin. His heart was beating a mile a minute, and he was afraid it would burst from his chest. _That_ had definitely not been like the other dreams. Not at all. He glanced to the clock and saw that he only had ten minutes to get ready. Flying out of bed, he got dressed as fast as he could and tried taming his bed head by running his fingers through his hair while looking in a mirror. He noticed that a cloth was still wrapped around his hand, and he tugged it off. Washing his hand in the small basin of water below the mirror, a few hard chunks of blood came off, but the cut looked much better. He dried off his hand and deemed himself presentable. Unlocking his door, he stepped into the hallway, looking around to make sure no one was there.

Once in the kitchen, and satisfied no one, or one man in particular, was going to jump from the closet and kill him, Toby pulled one of his pies from the pantry and placed it on a cooking tray. He popped it in the oven, and poked at the fire beneath it, waiting for it to heat up. Once satisfied that his pie was warm, he took it out and snatched up the whole bottle of gin on his way to the table. He sat down heavily, and just stared at his pie. He couldn't bring himself to eat it. He felt like he was going to throw up, and his head hurt. He wished he could just go back to sleep. Popping the cork from the bottle, he took a long swig of gin before putting it back on the table. It helped a little.

He was picking at the pie, taking small nibbles, when he heard a door shut above him. He flinched at each step that sounded on the wooden stairs outside. _Thunk, thunk, thunk._ Not really thinking, he quickly shoved half the pie into his mouth and bit down, choking a little bit. Sweeney chose that moment to stride into the room, his jacket slung over his shoulder, the shadows under his eyes a little more apparent. One eyebrow slowly raised as he spotted Toby who, with his eyes wide and cheeks full of pie, reminded him of a chipmunk. He just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He hoped this day went by smoothly and quickly with no distractions. His hope sank as he watched the boy try to chew the pie in his mouth, looking more like a mutt eating peanut butter.

“You ready then?” He asked, monotone as ever. Toby quickly swallowed the pie, and started coughing, but nodded at Sweeney. He took a last swig from his gin bottle before putting the cork back in and placing it back on the shelf. Sweeney watched this as he put on his jacket, mentally reminding himself to hide that gin later. When Toby was finished cleaning his breakfast up, they both left and began their walk to the market.

..x..x..x..x..x..x..

Fog and clouds hung in the sky, the sun nowhere in sight, and yet it was light enough to see. People were bustling everywhere, to and fro, moving like ants at a picnic. Running into each other, exchanging “Sorry”s, and carrying on with their lives. The occasional horse and buggy would pass, causing a space to made in the crowd that was quickly filled by more people. Noise seemed to buzz from everywhere, yet it wasn't quite all that loud. The sound of merchants yelling their products could be easily heard.

“Tomatoes! Get yer fresh tomatoes here!”

“Buy a pretty locket for your lass! Buy a locket, get lucky!”

“Fish! Fresh fish!”

But what caught Toby's attention was the stage that he himself used to sell an elixir on. A fake elixir, but an elixir nonetheless. A new tent was set up on it, looking rather gothic, and a man stood upon it. He was speaking and flourishing his product around, but Toby couldn't quite hear or see what it was. He began moving closer, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Oh yeah, he wasn't alone.

“And where are you going?” The barber asked, leering at Toby. Said boy gulped and pointed at the stage, a crowd already forming. Sweeney looked and sneered. “You want to see what he's selling? You should know quite well that whatever it is is a sham,” Toby nodded slowly, he did know, but that didn't mean he didn't want to know what it was. He gave Sweeney his best pleading face, trying to get him to understand without words, and pointed again. Sweeney bit back a growl, and huffed out a “fine”, earning a grin from Toby who darted away to join the crowd. Sweeney followed at a normal pace.

“It comes in a little glass vial, and one shot is all you need to relieve any pain, anywhere,” The man on stage sang, smiling his pearly white teeth that contrasted against his dark lip stick. In his hand was a small bottle of a glowing blue liquid. “It's quick! It's clean! It's pure! Costs only a penny, rest assured,”

“Pain killer, huh?” Toby jumped at the voice next to him. He looked over to Mr. T, who looked like he was actually contemplating on buying some of the blue liquid, but he quickly shook his head. “Stuff'll probably kill you. Come along. We have things we need,” Toby reluctantly followed, giving one last look over his shoulder to see a woman buying a bottle of the liquid.

The two pushed through the crowd till they reached a fork in the road. “Alright, we're going to go this way first, then come back around and get the window glass from a store down there,” Sweeney explained, pointing down the opposite roads. Toby just nodded and followed along as the barber headed toward a fish stand. As Mr. T haggled with the merchant, Toby wondered what they needed a fish for. Surely Sweeney didn't expect _him_ to cook it because the only thing he could make was pies, and he could barely do that anymore without gagging. But, surely Sweeney couldn't cook... could he?

“Stop daydreaming and hold this,” A fish wrapped in butcher paper was thrusted roughly into Toby's chest, and he caught it just in time. “Come along,” Toby wrinkled his nose at the fish in his hands. Why did he have to carry it? Did the barber not have two hands of his own? It was his fish after all! He should carry it. Not watching where he was walking (as he was glaring at the fish), Toby found himself suddenly stopping as he ran into somebody. He looked up to see a skinny man adjusting his top hat, a scowl on his face.

“Watch where you're going, boy!” He spat at Toby. Toby quickly nodded and backed away, scanning the crowd for a familiar white stripe of hair. When he didn't see any, he sighed. Great, just great. Now, he was lost in the middle of the crowd at a market with a fish. What was he to do -

“Can't look away for two seconds without you getting lost or distracted by something shiny, can I?” Toby was pulled roughly by the arm through the crowd, gritting his teeth against the pain of the iron grip. They finally stopped in a small clearing in front of some food booths. Sweeney turned Toby towards him, his hand still holding his arm, his face inches from his. Toby tried to pull away, but got caught in Sweeney's dark gaze. Was that a small bit of concern in his glare? “From now on, you keep your eyes up and stay where I can see you. Don't you even move a toe out of my arm length. Got it?” Toby nodded and relaxed when his arm was freed. He rubbed it, hoping there wouldn't be bruises. “There's strange people out here. Young boys should be wary,” Toby made a face and crossed his arms, trying to say “I'm not young anymore”. He watched as Sweeney leaned back and looked him up and down. He shivered, feeling very self conscious all of the sudden. “I guess you aren't that young anymore,” Sweeney mumbled, more to himself, but Toby had caught it. When he looked up at the barber though, his eyes were on the fruit stand in front of them.

“What kind of fruit do you like?” He seemed to ask offhandedly. Toby looked at him with an expression of complete confusion, and the barber sighed, pulling Toby with him again, albeit not as hard this time. “I doubt you're going to eat that,” He motioned to the fish in Toby's hands. “So, fruit. Point to what you want or you can starve for the week,” His voice was dead serious. Toby quickly began motioning to different foods as Sweeney talked to the merchant who bagged them up. They left the fruit stand and headed to a vegetable one nearby and the process repeated. They visited a few more stands before heading back the way they came. Toby was holding everything they'd bought, which was mostly food, and he let out a small squeak as an orange rolled of the top of his pile. Sweeney quickly caught it, and for a few seconds it appeared that he was going to put it back on the pile, but instead he put it in his pocket and took a few things off the pile to carry himself. Toby gave him a small smile, to which he pointedly ignored.

They decided, well Sweeney decided, that they were going to drop off the food back at the shop before getting the glass for the window. Toby munched on an apple as he was made to put all the food away and Sweeney went upstairs to retrieve more money. He had to admit that so far, the day was going well. He had a lot more food to eat, and he wasn't dead in a puddle of blood. That was a plus. It even seemed as if Sweeney was warming up to him... Not that Toby wanted him to. He could go on hating him for all he cared. After all, Toby still very much disliked the barber and that's how he was going to stay. As he finished his apple, he chucked the core into the oven, watching it catch fire and burn to a crisp.

..x..x..x..x..x..x..

As the pair began walking down the other street, on their way to get the glass, Toby wished he could have stayed home. Tall, boarded up buildings lined both sides of the street, blocking out any and all sun and making it seem like the dead of night, when it was in-fact, about noon. The few streetlamps that were lit barely shined through the thick darkness, and no windows had any light. The only sound was that of their shoes tapping on the ground and of a rat squeaking in a near alleyway. Toby shivered and moved to walk closer to Sweeney, who didn't seem to move away, and for that Toby was grateful. If anyone could protect him, it'd be the demon barber.

“It's just up here,” Sweeney said, his voice slicing through the silence and making Toby jump. They rounded a corner and Toby saw a couple of shops with their lights lit inside. He calmed down as he read the signs above them. “Glass Shop” and “Cherry's Bakery”. The bakery sat across the street from the glass shop, and from what he could see in the large open window, they specialized in sweets. Not really thinking, Toby reached out and tugged on Sweeney's sleeve. The man smacked his hand away and was about to growl something when he saw the boy pointing anxiously at the bakery across the street. He was giving him that pleading face again, and try as he might, Sweeney couldn't resist reaching into his pocket and handing him a few coins. It'd get the boy out of his hair for a moment or two. “Meet me back here once you're done,” His voice fell on deaf ears as Toby was already running across the cobblestone road heading for the warm glow that radiated from the bakery. Sweeney watched until he was inside before turning and going into the glass shop.

A wave of warmth, and the smell of icing and cake, hit Toby as soon as his feet stepped inside the bakery. The whole place was lit and pastries were scattered all over, just waiting to be eaten. A plump yet petite woman stood behind the counter and smiled a sweet smile at Toby. He smiled and gave a small wave before beginning his walk around, making sure he looked at everything there was. Did he want a piece of cake, or perhaps just a cupcake? The fudge looked good too, but check out those cookies. He finally settled on a cherry filled pastry, his mouth watering just looking at it. He paid the woman at the front and motioned for her to keep the change. She laughed and gave him an extra cookie. Toby grinned and, using the scrap piece of paper and pencil that the lady was using to keep track of her sales, wrote down 'Thank you'.

“Oh, you're quite welcome!” The woman said before bustling back to the kitchen. Toby ate his snacks, leaving not a trace behind, and began his trek back outside. His smile immediately fell when he remembered where he was. A bad feeling suddenly crept upon him. Toby quickly looked left and right down the street, ready to dash across it, when a strong hand landed on his shoulder. It jerked him backwards and into an alleyway that smelled of something most foul. He squeezed his eyes shut as he was slammed against a brick wall, and a dirty hand was on his face, turning it to and fro.

“My, my, my. Looky what we got here,” An alcohol coated voice rasped. Toby opened his eyes, finding himself in the company of a raggedy, horrific looking man that could use a good shave. Toby's eyes lit up at that thought, and he opened his mouth to scream, but only a whisper of air came out. “Aah, ha ha ha!” The man laughed, showing off his blackened teeth. “This is just too easy. I've caught myself a cute little mute,” He leaned forward, getting all up in Toby's face, a nasty grin on his face. Toby shook in fear as he felt the man's hand slide down his body, but he wasn't that weak. He wasn't that helpless. He wasn't giving in without a fight. So, with a well aimed fist, Toby cracked the man right across the face, throwing him off him. If living in the workhouse taught you one thing, it was how to get away.

Toby stumbled a little as he regained his footing and began dashing back to the street, aiming for the glow of light coming from the shops right outside the alley. He was almost there too, when a hand with a vice grip snatched his ankle and sent him flailing to the ground. He landed with a thud, the air whooshed out of him. He tried crawling those last couple of feet to the opening of the alleyway, but alas, the man flipped him over onto his back and held his hands above his head. Toby struggled against him, kicking and squirming, but the man just laughed and sat down on Toby. Quicker than Toby's eyes could follow, the man whipped out a handkerchief and tied Toby's wrists together, hooking them over a brick that jutted from the ground. He grinned down at Toby, his mouth just about foaming and his nose bleeding from where Toby had punched him. Toby repressed a gag at the sight of it. “Ya like ta play dirty, huh?” The stranger growled, licking his lips. “Well, I can play dirty too. It's such a shame though that I'ma have ta ruin this pretty face,”

Toby struggled again, but he couldn't avoid the punch that connected to his face. He silently cried out, only a hoarse whisper and a choked sob escaping his throat. “Ah, music to my ears,” The man purred in Toby's ear. His hand slipped down Toby's hyperventilating chest as his tongue flicked out to taste the shell of his captive's ear. Toby squeezed his eyes shut, tears falling, and shook with a sob. What did he ever do to deserve this?

Then, just as the man's hand had reached a little too low to comfort, it was gone. The weight was lifted off of Toby, and his eyes flew open. Above him stood Sweeney, the man dangling from the front of his shirt that was in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, Sweeney threw the man into the brick wall nearby. He stomped over to him, grabbing his hair and forcing him to stand up. The man let out a scream of pain and Toby shuddered. There was a shimmer of silver in the darkness and the man went limp. Sheathing his razor, not really caring about cleaning it at the moment, Sweeney strode back over to Toby who had sat up and tried to get his hands untied. Sweeney helped him with that, and just then noticed that the boy seemed to be staring off into space.

“Toby,” He started at his own voice. “Are you alright?” Toby's head snapped over to look at Sweeney, his eyes wide in fear. With a shaking hand, Toby reached up and rubbed his own cheek, then looked at his hand. Red blood gleamed in the dull light. Sweeney then realized that he had been covered in blood from the spray of the man's neck, and he was slightly dripping on Toby. The boy stared at him like he was looking at his own death, tears silently rolling down his cheeks and mixing with the blood. He reached a hand out to the boy, but he just flinched and quickly stood up, backing away from Sweeney. “Toby,” He tried to say in a reasonable, calming voice. “It's ok. I'm not going to hurt you,” He held his hands up in a 'calm down' manner and walked slowly towards the boy. Toby didn't seem to know what to do. He chewed on his bottom lip, ran his hand through his hair, and glanced around him like he was paranoid. Just as Sweeney was close enough to touch him, Toby bolted. “Bloody fuckin' hell,” Sweeney growled out, turning around and kicking the dead guy to release some anger. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a breath. Only thing he could do now was go get cleaned up, and hope Toby was back at the shop.

..x..x..x..x..x..x..

Sweeney arrived back at Fleet Street moments later after explaining to the glass maker that he'd be back later. He went upstairs to his shop, and shed his blood covered jacket. Using the bowl of water nearby, he cleaned off the few specks on his face and hands, and deemed himself clean. Then began the search for Toby. He obviously wasn't in the barber shop, but Sweeney looked around anyway, even in the trunk, before moving downstairs. He wasn't in the kitchen, and Sweeney thought it stupid to even consider checking in the basement, so he moved to the living room. A few things were moved around as if someone had run through without looking where they were going. A smirk of a smile graced the barber's face. Toby was here somewhere. He examined the living room, and then Mrs. Lovett's, and was left standing at Toby's door. He resisted the urge to face-palm himself. Of course he'd be in his own room. Leaning his ear against the wood, a quiet sobbing noise could be heard from inside the room. Sweeney raised his hand to the door knob and turned it slowly, finding it locked. He cursed under his breath and slowly unturned it. He'd have to knock.

Toby jolted up at the sound of knuckles on his door. He shook his head from side to side, gripping it in his hands. Tears rolled down his face, and he couldn't stop the images from flashing through his brain. All the blood. So much blood. He gritted his teeth and covered his ears when the knocking sounded again. “Toby,” No, no, anyone but him! “Toby, let me in,” Toby laughed bitterly in his mind. Like that would ever happen. He swiped at the tears on his face and hit his nose, groaning at the pain. He didn't think it was broken, but that punch had given him a bloody nose, which in turn had caused more freaking out, but it had stopped now. The knocking however had not. With a glare at the door, Toby stood and stomped over to it, flicking the lock and ripping it open. He glared up at a very surprised Sweeney, his face speaking 'WHAT?!'. The barber blinked at him.

“I... I just... Are you ok?” Sweeney asked, not really believing his own mouth. He hesitantly reached his hand out and wiped a tear off of Toby's cheek, noting that he still had some blood on him. Toby stared up at him for a moment before his face crumpled and he started sobbing again, this time burying his face into Sweeney's chest. The barber froze. He had not expected this. Slowly, he let his arms wrap around Toby, but the boy leaned back quickly when he shifted. He pressed against his nose with his fingers and let out a low hiss. Sweeney took his hand away from his nose and looked at it himself. “That man do this?” He growled. Toby nodded, wiping at his eyes again. Sweeney sighed. “Sit down there. You've still got blood on your face. I'll be right back,” Toby almost reached out as Sweeney left, taking his warmth with him, but he stopped himself and turned to go sit on his bed.

A minute later, Sweeney came back with a rag and a bowl of warm water. He knelt down in front of Toby and as gently as he could, wiped off the excess blood. Toby froze when he saw the rag, but Sweeney told him to close his eyes, and he did, feeling a little bit better. When he was done, Sweeney caught himself running his fingers over Toby's soft skin. He jerked away, causing Toby to open his eyes and look at him with confusion. The barber stood. “Alright... You're cleaned up, and your nose will be fine. I guess... I'll be going then,” He turned to leave, but a hand caught his wrist. He looked back to see Toby with that pleading look on his face again, this time saying, “Don't leave,”. He sat down next to Toby on the bed. Toby smiled and scooted closer, leaning his head on the barber's shoulder. Sweeney froze again before wrapping an arm around Toby's shoulders. What had Mrs. Lovett's letter said to do if something bad happened? Sing? He had scoffed at that idea before, but now... He felt a flutter in his stomach. Something that he hadn't felt in a very long time. He pulled Toby closer to him and started singing the softest song he knew. “There was a barber and his wife, and she was beautiful...”.


	6. Check Mate

When Toby awoke, he hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. He slowly sat up in his bed, pushing the blankets away and trying to remember how he got there. With a mind full of sleep induced fog, he rubbed his face, hitting his nose and wincing at the dull pain it brought. He suddenly had flashes of a wicked grin and rough hands on him, then blood, then singing. Singing. Toby's eyes flew wide open, and he looked all around his room. The barber wasn't there anymore. He must have left after Toby fell asleep. Toby felt his cheeks heat up. He'd fallen asleep in the arms of the man, his head on his shoulder. He groaned. What was going on with him? Why would he turn to a murderer for comfort? Why did he love the feeling of his hand on his shoulder? Maybe he liked- Toby shook his head. No, no, bad thoughts! There was no way he... No.

Toby stood up from his bed and made his way to the kitchen/shop. He needed something to help his growing headache, and that bottle of gin was sounding pretty good right about now. The scent of spices and fish wafted to his nose as he entered the shop, and what he saw made him freeze in his tracks. Sweeney stood behind the counter and was chopping vegetables and measuring herbs and throwing them into a nearby pot. Sweeney was cooking. Toby stood there and just blinked at the man, completely and utterly dumbfounded. Never in his life would he think he'd see this man, this murderer, sleeves rolled up and hair mussed, chopping carrots with such precision. Artist with a knife didn't just apply in the barber shop.

Sweeney looked up when he finally felt Toby's eyes boring a hole into him, and he started a little bit, almost taking out a chunk of his finger with the blade. They stared at each other for a minute before Sweeney broke the silence with an awkward cough. “I, uh, don't suppose you'll be having what I'm having,” He motioned towards the pot with the knife. “So, you'll want to find your own dinner.”

Toby nodded, but slowly made his over to the pot and peered inside. The fish they'd bought earlier was sliced and diced at the bottom of it, along with a mixture of vegetables and spices. It filled Toby's nose and he could just about taste it on his tongue, and it was... good. Perhaps he could try it. Fish wasn't really a meat, was it? It definitely couldn't be replaced by...humans. Toby repressed a shudder and looked up as Sweeney added the last of the veggies and moved the pot to the fire. He added a bit of water and then stood back, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Unless, you want to try some,” He said, his dark eyes locking with Toby's. Toby looked down to his feet, but then back up and nodded confidently. His heart stopped for a split second. The split second that Sweeney had a genuine smile on his face.

..x..x..x..x..x..

Dinner went by smoothly, yet awkwardly. Sweeney would try to start up a conversation, but soon realize that Toby couldn't talk back, so he'd just look back to his bowl. Toby didn't really seem to notice as he about vacuumed up three bowls of the stuff in no time. After his last, he looked over to Sweeney who had just been staring at him. Toby felt a blush settle on his cheeks and he looked down at his bowl. The barber chuckled. “It's good, eh?”

After dinner, Sweeney cleaned up their dishes while Toby nervously fiddled with an idea in his head, debating whether or not to follow through with it. He wished he could have had a tot of gin to calm his nerves, but the bottle was mysteriously _missing._ He finally made up his mind, throwing all rational thought and past experiences out the window, and ran to grab a pad of paper, a pencil, and the chess board. When Sweeney turned from the sink, drying his hands on a towel, a note was shoved in his face. “ _Want to play?_ ”

..x..x..x..x..x..

Studying the board, Toby hummed, his eyes flicking from white piece to black piece, his mind playing out different strategies, and thinking of all the possible endings. With a smirk, Toby moved his Queen, then sat back and crossed his arms. Anyone could tell that his face read “Check mate!”

“Bloody hell!” The barber scoffed and flicked his own king over. “How are you so bloody good at this?”

Toby shrugged and leaned forward to write “ _Praktiss_ ” on his pad of paper. Sweeney sighed and rewrote the correct spelling underneath it for him. “What you need to practice is your spelling.”

The two had their game set up on the living room couch, each on either end and the game-board in the middle. The fireplace was the only light in the room, and it gave off a bright and warm glow. The flames danced and casted shadows along the walls and the chess pieces, pulling them into their movement. Reds and yellows and oranges mixed and matched, and Toby found himself getting lost in them a couple of times. They had played a few games already, the first being the most awkward with no words and stiff movements. It was only after Toby won, and his face burst into an amazing grin, that Sweeney seemed to relax. After that, the talking and writing picked up. Sweeney was constantly fixing Toby's spelling mistakes, and in turn, teaching him new words. Toby couldn't remember a time when he ever had more fun.

“ _Sorry,_ ” Toby wrote before setting up the pieces for a new game.

“It's alright. Not your fault you never had any education,” Sweeney waved his hand in a dismissive fashion, but Toby leered at him.

“ _I may not be smart, but I aint dumb!_ ” He threw the pencil down and crossed his arms over his chest, looking away to the fire. Sweeney sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I never said you were- I didn't mean it like that. Look, you're winning more than I am. That takes brains,” Toby sneaked a look over to the man. He looked legitimately sorry, and Toby just couldn't keep up his diva tantrum. He sighed dramatically then nodded at Sweeney, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He motioned for the barber to go first. Said barber smirked and made his move. About halfway through the game, Sweeney broke the comfortable silence that had fallen over the two with a sudden question. “Have you ever tried talking anytime over the years since the, uh, incident?”

Toby looked away from his pieces and blinked up at him. His face fell and he nodded solemnly. Oh, how he had tried to utter a word, any word. The first couple nights after the experience were filled with silent screams into his pillow and saying goodbye to all the songs he wouldn't be able to sing anymore. He'd stopped trying soon after that, accepting his cruel fate. “Maybe you just need to try harder. I'm pretty sure it's all in your head. There's really no other explanation nor any reason why you shouldn't be able to speak,” Sweeney said. Toby felt a flare of anger rise in him. Try _harder_?! Had he not tried hard enough already? Had he not been through enough already?

“Try harder?! All in my head?! It's YOUR fault I'm like this anyway!” Toby _tried_ to yell at Sweeney, but like he knew it would, his mouth moved but no words came out. He turned away from the game and pulled his knees to his chest, glaring daggers at the fire in front of him. The room was still, except for the crackling fire. Time seemed to slow, seconds turning to hours, before anyone moved. Sweeney put the game-board on the floor and moved closer to Toby, lightly touching his shoulder. Toby shrugged him away and hid his face in his knees, willing himself not to cry. Sweeney sighed and fidgeted with the cuff on his sleeve.

“I'm... sorry,” He whispered, almost too quietly for Toby to hear. Almost. Toby sniffed and looked over at the man who was staring into the fire. Shadows danced on his face, and for the first time Toby realized just how sad he really looked. He knew nothing of the man's past, but it surely wasn't all sunshine and daisies. What were the lyrics to that song he had sung to him? A _barber_ and his wife...Could it be? “I'm sure you blame me for everything, but just know, I didn't mean for you to ever find out. Why you were even down there that night... I'm just... Sorry,” He looked over at Toby, locking eyes with the boy's sympathy filled ones. He couldn't help but feel a tug somewhere at his core when he looked at the boy with the fire casting shadow puppets along his features. He reached a hand up, running his fingers softly along Toby's cheek, feeling the boy shudder beneath them.

Toby turned away, the flames and darkness masking the blush on his face, and reached for his paper and pencil now on the floor. He quickly scrawled down a message before giving it to Sweeney to read. “ _The song you sang to me. Is it true?_ ” He searched Sweeney's face as the man stared at the question for a bit longer than he should have. Toby hadn't realized he was holding his breath until Sweeney put down the paper and looked at him. A rush of air filled his lungs as the other nodded.

“Yes, it's true, and yes, it's about me,” Toby gently eased the paper from the other's hands.

“ _Can you explane it to me?_ ” Toby hoped he wasn't overstepping any boundaries, but he really wanted to know. Sweeney sighed and set down the paper, turning more towards Toby.

“Fifteen years ago, I was Benjamin Barker. I had a beautiful wife and baby daughter, but that all changed when that filthy judge cast his greedy talons onto them,” Sweeney began. He relayed his mournful tale of being captured and thrown into jail on a false charge, describing every minute in exact detail. He explained his hopes he had whilst rotting away in prison. Hopes of coming home to a wife and daughter, of living his life the way it was. Never had he ever dreamed of killing anyone, except for the judge. The man he used to be would be horrified at the thought of it, but now... his hands were stained with so much blood. His wife was gone, and his daughter still looked skeptical whenever she visited. He explained about arriving in London again, the same London it had always been. Greedy and evil, not even worth what a pig could spit. His only friends were his razors that Mrs. Lovett so graciously saved for him. He was now Sweeney Todd. He explained about Pirelli's blackmail, and how it was all Mrs. Lovett's idea to use his body for pies (Toby visibly paled here). The new Todd cared only for vengeance against the judge. The success of the pie shop underneath him concerned him not, and he more or less just _practiced_ for the judge on all the people he killed. He felt nothing towards them. Only when the judge sat in his chair, did his blood boil. Finally, after so very very long, he had gotten his revenge. Finally, he could just live out the rest of his life in peace, knowing that his daughter is safe and that the judge couldn't hurt her anymore.

Toby had listened intently the entire time, soaking up every single word the man had uttered. He finally knew all about Sweeney's past. He finally knew exactly why he'd become a murderer. He finally understood. Everything. And he found himself forgiving Sweeney for all of it. He knew he shouldn't, he knew it was still a crime and it was wicked and horrible, but he did. He couldn't help it. Toby tentatively reached out and wrapped his arms around Sweeney's shoulders in what he hoped was a soothing hug. The man froze underneath him for a moment before he felt strong arms circling around his back and pulling him closer. All rational thought suddenly flew out the window. Both of their heartbeats sped up, and the each felt the same wonderful lurch in their chests. Sweeney pinpointed the feeling back to when he first saw Lucy for the first time, and slowly, he was beginning to realize what was happening here, but he didn't bloody well care in the least. He pulled the boy closer to him, burying his face into his neck. Toby let a smile fill his face. He couldn't place the feeling himself, but he knew he liked it. Maybe his thoughts from earlier weren't all that bad. How could they be when this felt so good?

The two broke moments later, Toby silently chuckling, and Sweeney smiling. He ran his fingers over Toby's cheek again, marveling in the softness. Toby blushed and dipped his head, causing Sweeney to chuckle. He glanced to the clock on the wall and said, “It's late. You should go to bed.” Toby looked to the clock too, but then shook his head, stood, and walked to the book shelf that was nearby. He picked a brightly colored book and brought it back to Sweeney, scooting close to him and willing him to take it. He did and laughed at the cover. “You know this is a childrens book, right?” Toby nodded and put on a “So what?” face. Sweeney just shook his head and opened the book to the first page.


	7. Feelings

A soft breeze blew through the streets of London. Shoppers shivered and pulled their coats tighter around them, trying to block out the offensive wind. Ladies gasped and held their dresses down. Cab drivers pulled on their hats while their horses stamped in place. The wind made it's merry way through town to the newspaper window of a pie shop, and successfully ripped a corner off of it. It then continued on in it's adventure until it ran smack dab into a head of black and white hair. 

Sweeney shivered and cracked his eyes open. Why was it so cold? He groaned as he tried to lift his head from it's position of being thrown over the top of the couch, but winced in pain as his neck went, “Oh no thank you.” Slowly, he lifted it up, turning his head and stretching his neck out until there was only a dull ache. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and rubbed at his neck. No more sleeping on the couch. His gaze fell upon the burnt out fireplace that held a few glowing embers, and he grunted. That would explain the cold. Another breeze whispered past his head, and he looked behind him to the makeshift window that was falling apart. As would that. 

Sighing, he went to stand up to go fix the window, but a weight in his lap caused him to stop. Looking down led him to the sight of Toby asleep, the boy's head in his lap and the book they read hugged to his chest. A small smile crept upon the barber's face. The sight was too adorable. He carded his fingers through Toby's short hair, causing the boy to stir, but not wake. While continually playing with Toby's hair, Sweeney thought about what had happened the night before. Something definitely changed between them. Something for the better, he hoped. He felt something inside of him that he hadn't felt since he first met his Lucy. He didn't know whether that was good or bad. He didn't know whether he should act upon these feelings or not. He didn't know whether he should be scared or not. He didn't know a lot of things, but if he had to admit one thing, it was that he was falling for the boy. The boy who was sleepily blinking up at him from his lap. “Good morning,” Sweeney said, still threading his fingers through the others hair. It was so soft. 

Toby smiled up at him, eyes still droopy in sleep. He leaned into the older man's touch that he was becoming so used to and almost craving. Toby didn't know what these feelings were inside of him, or perhaps he just didn't WANT to know, but it was getting harder to ignore them. It'd only been two days since Mrs. Lovett had left them, and already so much had changed. Sweeney wasn't giving him a death glare anymore, so he thought it was changing for the better. Maybe all they needed was a little alone time. Toby yawned, bringing the book in his hands up to cover his mouth. Sweeney smirked softly at the scene. “Come on, then. Let's get some breakfast, eh?” 

Toby nodded and sat up, stretching his arms above his head until his back popped. He got up to put the book away, shivering from the cold. It had been warmer with Sweeney. He followed said man into the shop and noticed the torn window immediately. Wait! Didn't they go out to buy glass? Why wasn't it... Oh. That wicked man in the alley. It seemed so long ago though it was only yesterday. Sweeney must have rushed right back after Toby ran and not picked up the glass. Toby felt a warm feeling in his chest. To think Sweeney would rush back for anything was a funny thought. Maybe a brisk walk, but Toby was sure he had to have ran to get there in the time that he did. To get to Toby. 

"I'll go pick up that glass today," Sweeney said, snapping Toby from his thoughts. He gave the boy a careful look whilst putting the pot of leftover dinner over the fire. "You don't have to go if you don't want to," He told Toby, completely understanding if he didn't. Toby thought about it, fidgeting with a rolling pin on the counter. Well, truth be told, that guy wouldn't be there anymore. He would definitely stay with Sweeney at all times now. There didn't seem to any danger in going with him. Toby looked up at him and shook his head. Sweeney raised an eyebrow. "So, no you don't want to come, or no you do?" Toby shook his head no, then nodded his head yes, then no, then yes, then- RRG! Sweeney smirked. Toby patted his pockets, looking for his pad of paper, but realized he left it in the living room. He was heading back to get it when Sweeney stopped him. "Why don't you just try saying what you want?" Toby looked at him like he was crazy. "Just try. Even if you can't really say it, I'd rather read your lips than your writing," He walked over to Toby and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. Toby felt himself blush at the comment, and he looked at his feet. He wished he could really tell Sweeney what he wanted. He looked up as the man cleared his throat. "So, would you like to go with me to get the glass?" Toby swallowed and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. 

' _Yes, I want to go with you,'_ When no sound came out, Toby's face fell, but Sweeney's gained a smile. 

"Alright, you can come, but from now on, no more writing unless it's extremely important. I want you trying to talk again," The barber said sternly before heading back to check on breakfast. Toby just nodded, wondering why on Earth his voice seemed so important to the man. 

..x..x..x..x..x.. 

The duo was back on the dark and depressing street that was last seen in chapter four. Though, it may have been a tad bit darker this time since the morning sun hadn't had time to work it's way up into the cloudy sky overhead. The only sounds were the pittering and pattering of their shoes on the ground, and Toby's heart thumping erratically in his chest. He kept up a mantra of, “It's ok. I'm ok. There's no one here,” in his head, but it wasn't helping. He subconsciously walked closer and closer to Sweeney, not noticing until their arms brushed, and he jumped in fright. Sweeney gave him a sharp look, causing him to look down at his feet in shame. He glared at his shoes. It wasn't his fault he was jumpy after all. Sweeney sighed and reached out, wrapping his arm around Toby's waist and pulling him close. “Just stay close, and you'll be fine,” He told the younger, trying not to revel in the feeling of holding him... too much. Toby was suddenly very happy for the darkness because he knew his face had to look sun-burnt with the blush he had going on. He put his hands to his face, trying to calm himself down, but it just made Sweeney look over at him with a raised eyebrow. He turned his head to look at him too, but with how close they were, his nose about touched Sweeney's. He gasped lightly as Sweeney's eyes widened just a hair. They both quickly looked forward and didn't look at each other again till they reached the glass shop. Though, Sweeney's arm never moved. 

As they entered, Toby dashed off to look around the store. There were large sheets of glass laying about in all different shapes, like the one they were getting, but there were also mirrors, tiny figurines, bowls, picture frames, even Christmas ornaments. Toby looked all around until he saw a small glass cat sitting on a shelf, it's tail curled around it's feet whilst it cleaned a front paw. He reached out to pick it up, but his hand was quickly smacked away. He frowned and looked up at the barber who was frowning right back. “Need I remind you _who_ broke the window? I don't need you breaking anything else, so don't touch _anything_ ,” He scorned Toby before heading to the counter to talk to the shop owner about the glass he had ordered. Toby sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to touch anything else. He looked around for a few more minutes, but boredom crept upon him as Sweeney kept haggling with the owner over the price of the glass. He shuffled his feet a bit before leaning back against a wall. A wall that slowly started to move backwards. _What the-?!_ Toby quickly turned on his heel and reached out to stop the shelf (not, in fact, a wall) from falling to it's doom. Luckily, he grabbed it in time, and the objects on it only shifted a bit. He exhaled in relief, quickly moving away from anything breakable and going to stand by Sweeney. The man was paying, grumbling something under his breath while he was at it, so he just gave a Toby a quick look. Toby gave a tentative smile before looking down, and just shoving his hands in his pockets again. 

..x..x..x..x..x.. 

The walk back to the shop was uneventful. Toby had wanted Sweeney's arm around him again, but he was busy carrying the glass with both hands, not trusting Toby to the job. When they arrived back at the shop, he installed said glass while Toby sat in the booth and watched. It more or less just slipped in till it got stuck in the wooden frame. Sweeney shook the door a bit, closed it then opened it, making sure it was secure. He gave the door a final look over before declaring himself done. Toby supplied a golf clap, and the barber gave a short bow. Toby chuckled silently, and Sweeney gave a small smirk. An awkward silence suddenly filled the air as realization settled upon them. What were they to do now? There was no work to do, and no errands to run. It wasn't quite lunch time either, so there'd be no use in preparing that. Toby looked up at the older man, who was examining the window again, and an idea flash through his head, but he quickly looked away and put a hand over his face to cover his blush. No way had he just thought that. 

Right when the silence was becoming so uncomfortable it almost hurt, someone knocked on the front door. A rush of air flew out of both male's lungs; sighs of relief. Sweeney ran a hand through his hair before striding over to the door, opening it, and looking at the man standing on the stoop with his usual blank, but oh-so-threatening, face. “Yes?” He snapped out. 

The man started for a minute at the rather rude greeting, but quickly took off his hat and smiled at Sweeney. “Ello! I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by for a pie. It looked like you were closed though, but I thought I'd come up here and check!” The man was unusually cheery and it was kind of freaking Sweeney out and getting on his nerves at the same time. He glared at the man and pointed to the window of the shop that had a “CLOSED FOR THE WEEK” sign in it. The man looked and laughed. “Oh! How did I miss that? Well, I'm sorry for disturbing you on your holiday! Just one more question though, if I may,” He looked to Sweeney for confirmation, and the barber gave a curt nod. “Is the barber shop above this open?” 

Sweeney paused for a moment and weighed his choices. If he told the man no, he'd leave and Toby and himself would be stuck in awkwardness again. If he told him yes... well, obviously he'd have to shave him, but at the same time, it'd be a great distraction and just something to do. Not to mention he'd earn some money. That was always a plus. He nodded. “Yes sir, it is. Would you care for a shave?” 

“Oh, yes! Very much so!” The man rubbed his stubbled chin. “It may not look like much, but by tomorrow, I'd have a whole beard grown!” He gave a hearty laugh, causing Sweeney to cringe. 

“Yes... Well, please, just go around to the steps there, and I will be up momentarily,” The man thanked Sweeney before following his directions. The barber turned, closing the door, and laid his sights on Toby who had been listening the whole time from the table. He beckoned him with a finger, and he quickly jumped up and made his way to the man. 

' _Yes?'_ He mouthed, confusion covering his face. 

“Bring me up a bowl of cool water, a rag, and a pot of tea with two cups. Got it?” Sweeney ordered. Toby nodded, unable to hide a smile. Would he get to watch the artist with a knife perform? He'd seen him once so long ago during the contest with Pirelli, but it had happened so fast, he'd hardly seen it. He was so excited while at the same time a little afraid. Who knew if he really was a changed man that didn't kill anymore? Toby shook these thoughts from his head. Sweeney was good now. He just knew it. “Good. Be quick now,” Sweeney moved to leave, passing by Toby closely and bumping their shoulders. Toby quickly regarded it as an accident, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't, and that made him smile. 

Gathering the aforementioned items onto a tray, Toby headed outside and up the stairs. He remembered the last time he climbed these stairs. He was utterly terrified out of his mind. It seemed too easy now, not that he was complaining. He shifted the tray of items to his hip, so he could use the other hand to open the door, and quickly shuffled in. His sights fell on the man already in the chair and covered by a white sheet. He was going on and on about something or another, and Sweeney was busy ignoring him and mixing shaving cream. He looked up as Toby entered and told him to put the tea pot on the stove and the rest on his desk. Toby did so, then upon finding a little nook near the window, sat down to watch. When Sweeney glanced over to him, a strange feeling of nostalgia washed over him, but he quickly shook it away and began his work, telling the man to please shut up or risk being nicked. 

Toby marveled at how much care Sweeney put into his work. Taking the time to run his razor over a leather strip slowly, till it was perfect. Carefully spreading the cream over the man's face so that it wasn't too thick or too thin. Pausing to examine the man's face shape and to map out how to shave him perfectly. All these steps he took so that when he began, each stroke was perfect. He took his time, being more gentle than Toby had ever seen him. It was so different from when he worked for Pirelli. That man was quick and brisk and rough. He cared not about the costumer, just their money. It was amazing he hadn't cut more people than he had. Toby looked down at his scarred knuckles and shuddered. He was glad that man was gone from his life. 

He looked back up when the man began talking again, praising Sweeney's work and grinning at himself in a mirror. Sweeney himself was cleaning his razor with the rag and water while looking at Toby with a deep-in-thought expression. Had he seen Toby looking at his scars? The two locked eyes for a minute before the barber looked away to collect his money from the man and practically shoo him out. He sighed once he was gone and moved over to the tea pot, filling the two cups. “I don't think that man's voice has an off switch,” He said, walking towards to Toby, who stood from his spot. “Maybe you and him should switch,” He handed Toby a cup and a smile. Toby smiled back, but rolled his eyes. 

' _I wish,_ ' He mouthed before taking a drink of tea, the hot liquid warming him inside. Sweeney chuckled and reached out, running his fingertips over Toby's cheek softly. Toby felt his face heat up, and he knew it wasn't the tea. He looked down, averting eye contact, but found his head being forced back up via a finger under his chin. For a moment all time stopped. Toby's eyes were locked with Sweeney's and the only sound was his heartbeat pounding away in his chest. He could feel the barber's warm breath on his face as said man leaned ever so closer. His brain was in a fog, and he felt himself lean into it. Closer and closer they got. Until Sweeney pulled away, dropping his hand and acting like nothing happened. 

“You'll get it back someday. I'm sure of it,” He said before moving to gaze out of his giant windows, leaving Toby very confused and... heartbroken? He shook his head and ran a hand through his short hair. He downed the rest of his tea, leaving his empty cup on the desk and sighing. Maybe that whole scene was just in his head. Had it really happened? He moved next to Sweeney and glanced at his face. The man looked back and his eyes gave off a mischievous shine. Oh, it had definitely happened. Toby couldn't help but blush again, but a small smirk appeared on his face. 

He turned to look out the window with Sweeney, gasping at how much of London he could see from up there. He moved forward till his forehead hit the cool glass and just gazed out at the city. It was dark and gloomy in places, and bright and beautiful in others. From the market to the park, everything was different. Toby loved it. “If you'd like, you may come up here to enjoy the view anytime you wish,” Sweeney said suddenly from behind Toby. The boy jumped a bit and looked at the man with wide eyes. 

' _Really?'_ He tried to ask. Sweeney paused for a moment, as if rethinking his words, but then nodded. Out of a spur of excitement, Toby quickly turned and threw his arms around Sweeney's neck, silently saying ' _Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!'_ Sweeney was surprised to say the least, but he also just clear wasn't expecting to be engulfed by anyone and the force made him loose his balance. He stumbled backwards a few steps till his legs hit the barber chair and buckled under him. A lot of flailing commenced and it ended with Sweeney in the chair and an equally shocked Toby on top of him. 

Toby groaned and pushed off of Sweeney, sitting up and rubbing his nose that had smacked into the back of the chair in the fall. He looked down at his hand on the other's chest and his legs straddling the man's hips, and the realization of his position hit him. Sweeney let out a groan of his own and rubbed his neck as he lifted his head up. He opened his eyes to find Toby's looking back at him with a mixture of surprise and fright. He probably thought he was mad at him (he was a little), but on the other hand, this position could be useful. He smirked. Toby tried to move backwards off the chair, but Sweeney caught the boy's collar and stopped him. Toby threw his hands up in an 'I surrender' sign and tried to calm down his breathing. ' _I'm sorry! I didn't know that would happen! I swear! I'm_ sorry!” Toby gasped and Sweeney's eyes widened. The two sat frozen, staring at each other like they were trying to decide if it was a trick or not. Did Toby just speak or did the author forget to italicize the last word? “I... I can...talk...” Toby was so shocked that he could speak, that he couldn't speak. Tears of joy ran down his cheeks and he was almost hyperventilating. Sweeney quickly began wiping away his tears and trying to calm him down. He was well aware of how happy and joyous this moment was, but if Toby didn't get his breathing under control he'd- 

Toby started laughing, a forgotten sound, and took in one more shaky breath before fainting from lack of oxygen. Sweeney caught him before he fell backwards off the chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Or that would happen. He stood, adjusting Toby so he was carrying him bridal style, and headed downstairs to the living room, laying Toby on the couch. He sat down next to him, smoothing his hair down and wiping a few excess tears from his face. He allowed a smile to fill his face and even chuckled at the whole situation. It all happened so fast, he almost couldn't believe it. He couldn't wait for Toby to wake up. He was dying to hear more of that voice. 


	8. Finally

Toby blinked his eyes open just a few minutes later, lifting himself from the couch cushion and looking around. A fire was just starting to spring to life in the fireplace in front of him. He rubbed at his head, mussing up his hair. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten downstairs. The last thing he could picture was being upstairs with Mr. Todd, and they were looking out the window, and then they were falling into his chair, and then… Toby gasped and his hands flew to his throat. Was he remembering correctly, or had it all been a strange dream? There was only one way to find out. He inhaled deeply and exhaled shakily a few times before steeling himself for heartbreak and opening his mouth. “Can I talk?” he croaked out, his vocal cords rusty from lack of use, but definitely working. Tears welled in his eyes as he cleared his throat and just began babbling to himself. “Oh my god, I can talk again. This is amazing. I sound hoarse as ‘ell but I think it’s getting better as I keep talking. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my go-” Toby’s voice broke as a sob escaped his throat, huge tears fell down his face, and a grin stretched as far as it could across his face. He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked forward on his seat. He could TALK again! His sobs turned into laughter, and he stood, practically jumping up and down, clenching his hands into fists and shaking them up and down in excitement. “I CAN TALK!”

“Great, now how will I get any peace and quiet?” Toby turned around to see Sweeney leaning against the doorframe between the living room and kitchen, arms crossed over his chest but a small smile playing on his lips. Toby’s heart leapt at the sight of the man as fresh tears started to run down his face. Sweeney frowned and quickly made his way to the other, hesitating only slightly before taking the younger’s face in his hands and wiping at his tears. “Hey, I was only joking,” he mumbled. Toby laughed and tilted his head into Sweeney’s grip, bringing his hands up to hold onto Sweeney’s wrists so that the man wouldn’t pull away. He looked up at him, grinning, and bounced on the balls of his feet.

“I can talk! I’m just so happy!”

“Strangely,” Sweeney raised an eyebrow, chuckled, and rubbed his thumb across Toby’s cheek. “So am I.” Toby turned pink beneath his hands and his eyes darted downwards. Sweeney’s hands fell as Toby leaned forward and threw his arms around the elder bringing him down into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” Toby said. Sweeney frowned and pulled back from the hug.

“For what?”

“For helping me and believing that I would talk again.” Sweeney scoffed and sneered at the ground, taking a step back from Toby and missing the fallen look on the boy’s face.

“I was the one who made you lose your voice in the first place. I deserve no thanks. You should be rightfully furious with me if anything.” He sighed. Toby tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. He reached out for Sweeney again, placing one hand on the other’s upper arm. Sweeney looked back up, his facial expression matching Toby’s.

“It’s… not your fault,” Toby spoke steadily. Sweeney flinched like he’d been hit, his eyes going wide. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before placing his hands on Toby’s shoulders and giving him a small shake.

“What… are you talking about?” He raised a brow at the younger. Toby bit his bottom lip as he looked up at Sweeney, confirming in his head an idea that had been planted there long ago. He took a deep breath and straightened himself up.

“It was not your fault. It was Mrs. Lovett’s,” he spoke steadily and sincerely. Sweeney’s eyes widened a hair, and he opened his mouth to say something contradictory but Toby put his hand up to silence him. “Believe me, I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and while I always had suspected it in the back of my mind, I just didn’t want to believe it. I _wanted_ to blame you, I suppose.” He gave the older an apologetic look. His next words shook as long ignored memories began to resurface. “ _You_ were the blood soaked demon that haunted my dreams, while Mrs. Lovett was a warm shoulder to cry upon. She took care of me, and loved me, and protected me, but she…” His newly found voice stuck in his throat and he sighed, closing his eyes. Sweeney squeezed his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. When Toby reopened his eyes he looked up at Sweeney who gave him a small smile, encouraging him to continue. Toby cleared his throat.

“She had been the one that let me, well, practically pushed me down the stairs of the bake-house. She tricked me into thinking she trusted me and wanted me to help her! She said nothing would harm me, and that she loved me, and I believed her because I ain’t never had a mother before, and I was just so happy to have found one!” Toby began shaking as tears sprung to his eyes again. “But then she led me down to that evil place of death and… I couldn’t escape because she _locked the door_ behind her!” Sweeney flinched as the other suddenly raised his voice and thick sobs sprang from his throat. He knew that Mrs. Lovett had lured the boy to the basement, but he had no idea what lengths she had gone through to get and keep him there. The poor boy should have ran away while he had the chance over the years, and yet he stayed, practically clinging to the woman who deceived him. Though, he supposed, if one had to choose to trust either the one who killed or the one who baked he supposed the latter was the best choice in the matter.

Sweeney pulled Toby closer to him, wrapping his arms around the younger’s waist, but Toby put his hands up against Sweeney’s chest and shook his head. As much as he loved the feeling of being close to the barber, he had to tell Sweeney the rest, and it was now or never. He took a few deep breathes and swallowed, trying to get his voice under control.

Gripping Sweeney’s shirt, he told him, “The thing that really has stayed in the back in my head all these years is that when you two came down and found me, she said…” He sniffed and let out a harsh scoff. “She said, ‘I've changed my mind. You can't kill him.’” Sweeney nodded as Toby looked up at him, the expression on his face begging to know if the words he had heard so long ago were true. Sweeney remembered her saying that. Not very smart on her part, he had thought at the time.

Toby’s fists tightened in Sweeney’s shirt before he suddenly let go and pushed away from the man, a glare set into his face, and he began pacing in the small space between him and the couch. “ _SHE_ changed her mind! It was _her_ idea!” He gestured wildly with his hands for emphasis and pulled at his hair in frustration, like the notion of the idea was insane when really it was quite tame compared to some of her other ones. “Just like it was _her_ idea to _bake people into pies_!” Toby stopped pacing, turned suddenly, and kicked the couch, causing it to scrape across the floor a couple of inches.

Sweeney flinched at the sound of wood against wood and mentally reminded himself not to piss off the boy. He watched as Toby visibly deflated, shoulders falling like his hands were made of stones, panting softly and still glaring at the couch. He moved closer, resting a hand on Toby’s shoulder softly. When Toby didn’t push him away, he slid this hand across Toby’s back to the other shoulder and pulled the younger closer to him until Toby’s shoulder bumped his chest and his head tilted sideways to fall upon his shoulder. Toby was the perfect height to lay his head on Sweeney’s shoulder, a fact that made Sweeney giddy inside. Toby sighed and Sweeney shivered from the feeling of his warm breath hitting his neck. He reached up to card his fingers through Toby’s short hair.

“I’m so sorry that you were put through so much,” Sweeney said softly. “That woman is quite the wolf in sheep’s clothing.” Toby scoffed.

“Demons can charm you with a smile, but only for a while before you see who they really are.” Sweeney nodded at Toby’s words.

“To tell the truth, I had always suspected that she may have had something to do with Lucy’s death,” Sweeney admitted. His heart twanged at the thought of his beloved wife, but his blood boiled at the thought of her being murdered. “Whether she supplied her with the poison or forced it down her throat, I know Lovett was involved.”

Toby pulled back from Sweeney’s arms to look at his face and titled his head to the side slightly. “Lucy?” He asked. Sweeney’s eyes glazed over for a split second as he looked towards the fireplace mantle where he had placed her picture. Toby glanced at it before connecting the pieces. “Oh,” he started. “Your… wife.” In his head, Toby had sneered at the title, but it came out of his mouth sounding soft and understanding. A small flame of a feeling, nary but an ember, lit up in the back of his mind at the thought of Lucy, but Toby tried to shake it off. It would do no good to be _jealous_ of the dead.

Instead he reached out and took Sweeney’s shirt lapels into his hands and tugged gently, bringing Sweeney back to the present and focusing on him. “That witch has harmed us both,” He stated, matter of factly. “And I don’t think I could live with myself if she ever harmed you again.” He felt his face heating up, but he couldn’t stop himself from expressing the feelings that the elder had caused to bloom inside him. He was sick of feeling on the inside and not doing anything on the outside. His heart sped up and he said, “I know it’s only been a few days now, but I feel like we really got to know each other and I… I’ve come to care about you, and I think I might f-fancy you, and I just need you to know that I will always be true to you, and if anyone else tries to hurt you I’ll send them howling. I’ve got ways!” The last part rushed out of him and left him staring at his own hands, face completely red. Sweeney felt his own face start to heat up at the declaration from the other, and only helped him realize that yes, he felt the same. The butterflies in his chest started their fluttering again, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he did something about it.

“Toby, I-,” Toby tugged on his shirt again, and he allowed himself to be pulled over and then pushed onto the couch softly. Toby now stood in front of him, affectively making himself seem taller than Sweeney since he was seated. Toby smiled down at him and walked closer, forcing Sweeney to move his knees apart lest Toby would run into him. Once they were almost close enough to be touching, Sweeney reached out and rested his hands on Toby’s hips, looking straight up at the other’s face as soft words poured from his lips.

“No one's gonna hurt you. No one's gonna dare. Others can desert you, not to worry, whistle, I'll be there!” Toby sang, carding his fingers through the white stripe that ran through the elder’s hair. Sweeney smiled and rested his chin against Toby’s sternum, feeling it vibrate softly when he sang. Though his voice was still not up to par with what it had been, Sweeney thought it was still beautiful, and could picture himself falling asleep to it easily. “Being close and being clever ain't like being true. I don't need to, I would never, hide a thing from you… Like some...” They both glanced over at the door that led the way into Mrs. Lovett’s bedroom before Toby cupped Sweeney’s face in his hands and leaned down, barely touching their noses together. Sweeney’s breath hitched for a split second before he smirked and reached up to cup the back of Toby’s neck with one hand.  “Nothing’s gonna harm you. Not while I’m around, Mr. Todd,” Toby practically breathed the words into the other’s mouth.

“You can call me Sweeney,” Sweeney said, and as soon as his name left Toby’s lips he pulled him down and captured them in his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took 4 years to update. Truth be told, I am surprised anyone reads this, but I am also so happy that you all do! Thank you for reading, and thank you for those who leave comments! I am so sorry again to those who have been patiently waiting. I hope this chapter helps and isn't too off from the others. Thank you again, love you all~ <3  
> P.S. yo also, if anyone knows of any other fic or artwork with this pairing, please hit me up with it~


	9. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweeney and Toby's relationship begins with a night out and lots of talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad that people are still reading this despite the fact that it took me forever to update! Please enjoy this next bit!
> 
> OH, also, I know this is kind of late but someone on FF.net 4 years ago explained Toby's muteness for me and I don't think I ever mentioned it here so I'm going to paste it here just in case anyone is wondering/wants to help explain it (there's probably no exact right answer. I started this story in high school and did no research I'm so sorry): 
> 
> From a psychological standpoint (It is to be noted, though, that I am no expert on these matters and I have a rather basic knowledge of them. I have done I great deal of studying on the subject, though.) it seems to me that Toby suffers from a mental malady known as conversion disorder (first coined by Sigmund Freud); a type of somatoform disorder (a mental disorder that takes bodily form). Those suffering from conversion disorder may experience paralysis, numbness or perhaps the inability to see or speak even though nothing is physically wrong with them. (This disorder, however, should not be confused with hypochondriasis.)These symptoms many times present themselves after an individual has been subjected to a very traumatic event. It is thought that these symptoms come to pass because the sufferer is attempting to quell and/or resolve some sort of internal conflict. With what has come to pass in the story, it does look like Toby suffers from this disorder.

          It’s amazing how the simple act of pressing your lips against someone else’s can elicit responses from multiple points in your body. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids. Your heart beats faster as adrenaline rushes through your veins. Your skin tingles causing the little hairs on your arms to stand up. Your knees go weak. Euphoria floods the mind. All from the simple contact with another person.

          After a few more consecutive kisses, Toby finally pulled back from the man beneath him, panting softly, mind in an endorphin filled haze. He opened his eyes slowly, smiling when he found the other man already staring back at him with soft eyes and just as out of breath as him. He laughed quietly and sighed contently, struck with how amazing the feeling of Sweeney’s lips on his had been. Who would have guessed that all they needed was a little alone time to turn their once non-existent relationship on its head. He moved to kiss Sweeney again, but the elder held him still with hands that had moved from his hips to his face during the kiss. Toby frowned slightly. Was something wrong?

          “Wait,” Sweeney said, voice barely above a whisper. Good lord had that felt amazing. Kissing Toby had filled Sweeney with feelings that he thought had died in that cold, rotten jail cell so many years ago. All he had felt, up until very recently, was a mixture of rage of emptiness. Now, he felt warmth radiating from the body above him, and the goosebumps on his skins. He felt the smile at his lips, something that was becoming less of a rare oddity and more of a commonplace item. He felt happy.

          As he looked into the other’s bright eyes, all he wanted to do was shower him with affection, but, through the delirium of delight he felt, something dangerous nagged at the back of his mind, and if he didn’t address it right then, he’d never be able to be fully comfortable with whatever this was that was happening between the two. Toby furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and Sweeney could see fear starting to lace through them.

          “I-I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?” Toby asked, voice wavering. _Bloody hell!_ Sweeney quickly shook his head and stopped Toby from pulling away.

          “No!” He accidentally said quite loudly in his panic. Toby froze and stared at him. “No,” he said softer after taking a calming breath. “You did nothing wrong. Nothing. Alright?”

“O-ok,” Toby nodded, relaxing. “Then what…?”

Sweeney sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before saying, “I just… I just need to know that this is truly something you want.”

          “Yes, it is. I’m sure of it,” Toby stated strongly. He had thought that the kissing had made that perfectly clear, but something else was obviously still bothering the other. Sweeney nodded and cleared his throat.

          “It’s just… you’re so young and-“

          “And I can’t make decisions for myself?” Toby interrupted, anger sparking inside of him. “I am technically an adult, thank you. I know what I want, and I want you!”

          “That’s not what I was going to say,” Sweeney glared at the boy above him, who immediately looked sheepish, but he couldn’t stop the slight blush from dusting his face due to Toby’s strong words. “You are young,” he started over, running his thumb over the soft skin of Toby’s cheek. Toby leaned heavily into the touch. “And I am so old. You have your whole life ahead of you and mine is already half gone. I have so little to give to you. You should be with someone-” His next words were a mumbled mess as Toby smashed his lips sloppily against Sweeney’s, just trying to shut him up more than anything. Once they disconnected, he laid his forehead against the others’.

          “I don’t care. I want _you_ , so you’re gonna hafta accept that, _sir_ ,” Toby said matter-of-factly, causing an amused smirk to grace Sweeney’s face. “Unless,” his face fell. “ _you_ don’t want me?” Now it was Sweeney’s turn to pull Toby into another quick kiss, one so full of passion that there was no room left to question Sweeney’s feelings. He answered him anyway though.

          “Of course I want you, _boy_ ,” He rolled his eyes and Toby laughed. Warmth spread throughout his chest at Sweeney’s words. “But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right.”

          Toby tilted his head to the side, “What do you mean?” He leaned back to give Sweeney space.

          “What I mean is, we barely know each other,” Sweeney deadpanned. Toby stared at him before chuckling nervously. While this fact was true, Toby knew the feelings he got around the older man were not a lie and were very real. He likened it to what love at first sight must feel like; completely irrational, absolutely sincere.

          “So, what do you propose we do?” Toby asked. Sweeney smiled.

          “How about I take you out to dinner and then perchance a walk through the park?”

          “Like… like a date? Do you plan on wooing me, sir?” Toby giggled in glee as Sweeney’s eyes sparked.

          “Exactly.”

…………

          Evening in London was quite the scene if you knew where to look. Couples arm in arm, walking down the streets, heading to destinations unknown.  Restaurants opening their doors for the dinner crowd, releasing the smell of good food into the atmosphere. The calming sound of the River Thames hitting the shipping docks and rocking the boats that slept there back and forth. The sun setting behind the buildings cast everyone in a soft, warm, glow that softened their features and elongated their shadows. Even the homeless beggars in the street looked a little less rough around the edges than usual.

          Sweeney still hated London with the burning passion of a red hot hunk of coal, but he could admit that there were times when it could be nice. Particularly, it was when he was walking hand in hand with such a handsome companion. After digging through the back of his wardrobe, he had found and given Toby one of his smaller waistcoats and jackets to wear and smoothed his hair down and to one side with a little pomade. Toby had checked himself out in the mirror for at least ten minutes while Sweeney had changed into a nicer outfit. After which, Toby stared at Sweeney for another ten minutes before the promise of food was too good to pass up and they both left the shop.

          As they joined the evening crowd, they watched the streetlamp lighters light the streetlamps and restaurant owners place their dinner menus outside their doors. A few people in the crowd gave them surprised or confused looks, but the two brushed them aside, completely focused on each other and the task at hand.

          “What about there?”

          “There’s nothing you’ll eat there.”

          “How do you know that?”

          “Believe me, I know.”

          “Alright, how about… there?”

          “Too crowded.”

          “Bloody hell!” Toby threw his free hand up into the air in exasperation. He’d suggested at least seven perfectly fine looking establishments thus far, and each one Sweeney had some reason or another to shoot down. Too crowded, too dark, not enough breadsticks, etc., etc. It was like he already had a place in mind to go- oh. “Ooh,” Toby said when they stopped in front of a seafood restaurant. The restaurant itself was built upon the land right next to the river, but the outdoor seating was on a patio deck that circled the restaurant and jutted out over the water. A giant, red, wooden lobster was nailed to the front of the restaurant and served as the name sign. Toby sniffed the air and sighed at the glorious smell of what was easily to become his new favorite food, which he never would have tried if it weren’t for Sweeney. Mrs. Lovett wasn’t a fan of eating anything that lived in the water.

          “Does this place look alright? We could always try somewhere else if you want,” Sweeney said trying to keep a straight face, but failing when Toby gave him a deadpanned look that could rival his own. They both laughed as Toby began to pull Sweeney into the restaurant.

          Once inside, they were told to wait while a table was cleared, and Toby became enamored with the lobsters in the glass tank that was situated near the waiting area. Sweeney smiled at him, enjoying his curiosity, and felt a warmth spread throughout his chest. When they were finally seated, the waiter gave them menus and glasses of water before leaving so that they could decide on what they wanted.

Toby frowned as he stared at the words on the piece of paper in his hand. A lot of the names were in a different language, he could only guess as French, and he already had a hard enough time reading English. He tried to whisper some of the words under his breath to try and figure out their meaning, but it didn’t help. He looked up at Sweeney, who was sitting across the small table from him contemplating his own menu, and cleared his throat. Sweeney looked up and Toby chuckled nervously. Gesturing to the menu he muttered, “Can you read the menu to me… or, well, translate it?” He fanned himself with the menu as he heated up from embarrassment. He didn’t want to have to rely on someone else to read for him, but alas, he did want to eat. Sweeney smiled gently at him, understandingly, and went over the menu with him.

When the waiter came back, they ordered, Toby got a shrimp plate while Sweeney got crab, and then chatted while they waited for their food. “Thank you for bringing me here,” Toby started.

“It’s my pleasure,” Sweeney smiled warmly.  “I noticed how much you liked the stew I made the other night, and I know that you don’t eat other meat, so I figured this would be a good place to visit.”

Toby fiddled with his fork that was on the table, raising an eyebrow at Sweeney. “How did you know that I don’t eat meat?” He asked. It’s not like he ever ate in the same room as the other before the other day. Sweeney shrugged.

“You notice things when you live in the same vicinity as someone else for a few years,” Sweeney took a drink from his glass of water and quirked an eyebrow at Toby over the rim of it. “Even if that someone else always left the room whenever you entered.”

Toby blushed and looked down at his hand that was still fidgeting with the fork. “Sorry,” He muttered, almost too quiet to hear over the hum of other conversations in the restaurant. Sweeney reached across the table to place his hand over Toby’s fidgeting one. Toby looked up at him.

“Don’t be,” The elder said seriously. “Don’t ever be. You had every right to feel as you did then,” Sweeney swallowed the lump threatening to form in his throat. “I-I just hope that those feelings are trumped by the ones you feel now because that is the truth for me. You have brought out feelings in me that I didn’t know I _could_ feel anymore.” Toby felt his heart swell and face heat at the words. He smiled and adjusted their touching hands so that their fingers were laced together.

“Thank you,” He said, trying and failing to keep a stupid grin off his face. “And there’s no need to worry. What I feel for you now I’ve never felt before, but it is the strongest thing I have ever felt in my life, and I will not let what happened in the past stamp it out.” Toby knew the feeling he was talking about had a name, but he didn’t think it’d be wise to bring it up _just yet_. Still, when Sweeney leaned forward and brought their clasped hands to his mouth, leaving a chaste kiss upon his knuckles, he could not deny the flutter of his heart and the tears of happiness that sprang to his eyes (which he willed away quickly because the waiter was there with their food).

…………

          “So, then I said, ‘But the chicken still ‘as its head!’” Sweeney snorted before bursting into full out laughter, the never-before-heard sound surprising Toby, who quickly began grinning like an idiot. He didn’t think his joke would be _that_ funny, but he felt pride rise in chest at being about to make the other laugh so hard that he had to clutch Toby’s shoulder to hold himself up. They had stopped walking, lest Sweeney trip in his current state, and now stood in the middle of the park.

Next to them, a wooden bench sat beneath a tall tree that in the day would provide excellent shade, but in the evening did little more than block the view of the stars in the sky. A small flower garden was planted behind the bench, and the path that the two were walking on ran right in front of it. A lamp was positioned next to the bench, but either someone had forgotten to light it that night, or it got blown out, for it cast no light, leaving only the moon to guide the couples’ way.

          Once Sweeney caught his breath, and regained something close to his usual composure, they began walking again, leaving the bench and tree and lamp behind them. Sweeney shook his head in disbelief before he asked, “You actually said that to her?”

          “Well,” Toby smiled dryly. “I would have if I had been able to speak at the time, but I did say it to myself and had a right good silent laugh later!” He cocked his arm at the elbow and swung it in front of his body as he let out a quite obvious fake laugh.

When Sweeney didn’t respond, he glanced up, finding the other looking very deep in thought and looking off into the distance of the park, somewhere by the flower garden. He frowned. Was Sweeney still beating himself up over ‘the incident’? He thought that they’d gotten past it at dinner. “Sweeney?” The barber flinched when Toby lightly touched his shoulder. He frowned at the worried expression on the younger’s face.

“Sorry,” He said, reaching out and wrapping an arm around Toby’s waist. “I just had a bit of a memory resurface and got distracted.”

“May I ask what the memory was?” Toby felt the grip on is waist tighten a hair. Sweeney took a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

“The last time I was in this section of the park. It was spring, and I was with… Lucy and Johanna, who was just a baby at the time,” Toby could see the other’s eyes glaze over, either in memory or sorrow. Or both, really. The heartache that the man had lived through was something that Toby could never imagine. He leaned closer to the other and tilted his head to rest it on his shoulder.

“Tell me about her,” Toby said after a silent beat in the conversation. Sweeney’s brows furrowed for a moment.

“Lucy?” Toby nodded against Sweeney’s shoulder. Sweeney sighed and turned his head slightly to place a soft kiss atop Toby’s head. “It was so long ago. Almost another life-time. I was a different man, London was a different city, and Lucy… She…” Sweeney took a few deep breaths while Toby waited patiently. “She had yellow hair,” he started. “She was beautiful and virtuous, and also so very smart and creative,” Toby could hear the admiration dripping from his words and imagined the hearts in his eyes. Toby wondered if Sweeney would ever talk about him in the same way. “We got in many debates over any and everything and, suffice to say, she won most of them,” He chuckled. “She could be very emotional though, something that some people took as a weakness,” he spat the last part, thinking of one certain person in particular whom he remembered called Lucy a ‘pretty little thing, silly little nit’. The way Lovett had painted Lucy, anyone would’ve believed her to be a heartbroken fool, but Sweeney knew better. If she really had gone to the Judge’s that night, you could bet it was in a furious rampage. “But I saw it as her throwing herself into things with everything she had. She had such a passion for whatever she was doing. Cooking, singing, writing, carpentry, whatever. She loved to learn new things,” He rubbed at his sideburns and winced at a memory. “She never really got the hang of barbering though.” Toby snorted a laugh.

They had reached the end of the stone path that spanned the length of the park and were exiting into a deserted street. Street lamps were lit up and down it, the orange light they threw off mixing with the blue from the moon above. They crossed said street and found themselves looking out over the moonlit River Thames, only a waist high brick wall kept them from walking right off the small drop-off and into it. Toby detached himself from Sweeney’s side and sat on the wall, patting the space next to him until the other sat as well. The latter sighed again. “Some believe that pretty women should be only that. Pretty things that sit in the window or tend to gardens, write letters, brush their hair, or what have you, but I loved her for her mind more than her beauty,” He looked over at Toby who was fidgeting with his shirt cuffs as he listened. “Come to think of it, overall, I think I’m more attracted to people’s minds than their looks.”

Toby smiled and felt his face heat in a light blush. He still couldn’t help but feel jealous of Lucy, and a little sub-par. How could he ever live up to such an amazing woman? He looked to the other who was smiling back at him. Something about Sweeney’s smile looked different though, Toby thought. It seemed more relaxed, more natural. Like, he had finally thrown off some weight that had been crushing him for so long. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, full of emotions and admiration, and something about the way Sweeney was looking at him with those eyes made Toby realize that it wasn’t Lucy that Sweeney was thinking about anymore. It was him. Sweeney was looking at him with eyes full of wonder and affection. His blush deepened.

“She sounds lovely. I’d have liked to meet her,” Toby said sincerely. Sweeney chuckled.

“She’d have loved you, I’m sure. You wouldn’t be able to beat her at chess though,” The two shared a laugh before falling into a comfortable silence.

Toby turned on the wall so that he was facing out towards the river, his legs dangling off the edge. Sweeney unconsciously wrapped his arm around Toby’s middle, paranoid that the other would fall over the edge. Toby soaked up the feeling as he gazed out at the dark water lapping at the rocks beneath his feet. The moon shone off the crests of the small waves as they rushed in and out, disappearing out to where the other side of the river met the other side of the city. Toby hummed, catching Sweeney’s attention.

“You know where I’d really like to go? Where I’d really like to live?” He asked. Sweeney shrugged.

“Where?”

Toby smiled, kicking his feet. “Down by the sea,” He sang out in a mocking falsetto. Sweeney snorted and Toby laughed but then hit him in the shoulder softly. “But, for real, I’m not kidding. I do like the idea of the beach and the warm sun. It’s so grey here. I never been anywhere else, but I think I’d rather be anywhere but London.” There were so many ghosts there. Sweeney hummed.

“A fresh start might not be a bad idea,” He muttered, more to himself than anything. Toby perked up.

“Would you really leave just because I wanted to?”

Sweeney pulled Toby closer via his arm that was still around the younger’s middle. “Me and London don’t have a great history, but believe me when I say that I would stay here, or go _anywhere_ ,if it meant that I was with you.” He leaned in, bumping his nose against Toby’s. Toby gasped softly and gazed up at Sweeney with big eyes filled with such happiness and adoration that Sweeney felt his heart stutter. As he leaned in and connected his lips to Toby’s, he made a mental promise to himself. He was going to get Toby out of this corrupted city if it was the last thing he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the four years since I last wrote this story, I've come to regret killing Lucy like so offhandedly and random, so I tried to redeem her a bit here and make you see her through Sweeney's eyes cause you know strong female characters are good things to have and not randomly kill. oops.  
> ANYWAY  
> I've got questions for you guys: 1) Do you like faster updates with shorter chapters, or slower updates but longer chapters (this chapter is what I would consider long for reference)?  
> 2) Does anyone know where Sweeney sleeps? In the movie, when he is first being led in to the living room (after Worst Pies In London) he looks up a flight of stairs. He then asks Mrs. Lovett why she doesn't rent out the room above her. So, I'm guessing these stairs go to a room, right? The barber shop perhaps? Those stairs like... vanish for the rest of the movie. I don't remember ever seeing them again.  
> I already sorta stretched it having Lovett's and Toby's room somewhere behind the living room (I do believe we see a hallway going back there...) but they would obviously have bedrooms. Lovett would anyway. Did Sweeney ever? Did he even sleep the entirety of the movie?  
> So, I may take some artistic licence and say that Sweeney's bedroom is up those stairs, but also, that there is a door from his barber shop into his bedroom. It seems logical. What do you suppose? 
> 
> Also, I'm kind of at a block for what should happen next. Like, I have specific plot points and I know how I want the story to end, but it's getting to those points that's a huge blur, so if anyone has any suggestions, things they'd like to see these two do, plot holes that need fixing or some such, just mention it in a comment~ Thanks again for reading!


End file.
